Them's Fightin' Words
by Tergon
Summary: A series of completely unrelated fight scenes in response to challenges. Contains language, snuff
1. Obligatory Explanatory Readme

Before we begin, I'll make one thing clear – this is NOT a normal fic. In fact, it's a series of one-shots, each one completely unrelated to all the others. They are challenge responses from quite some time ago that I've finally decided to post on FFN for the enjoyment of the greater public, and also as a means to keep my ficcery stored and easily available.

To properly understand the context of _Them's Fightin' Words_, you'll need to read this introduction. Then it will all make sense, I promise.

The fics themselves were suggestions from other people that I asked for. In early 2004 I began a self-answering challenge on the _BBS Of The InterNutter_. The challenge in question followed along these lines…

**I have been inspired. I also happen to have a lot of spare time, but that's incidental. Anyway, about the inspiration.  
We all remember Mer's challenge from not long ago, right? It was simple - name two characters, and she'd do what she does best, which is to have them fall in love. How very sweet. Well, this is a variation on a popular theme. Again, name two characters, and I will do what I do best.  
Namely, have them beat the living snot out of one another. **

**Rules:  
1. Two characters are recommended, but I will allow up to six people for group battles. If you want someone involved, you have to name them. I also include groups of non-characters, like FOH or Weapon X soldiers, to be the equivalent one character. **

**2. I will accept requests on how the fight goes. If you want one person or team to win, say so. **

**3. Character death is also acceptable. If you want it, order it. **

**4. Anything you DON'T tell me from rules 2 & 3, I will make up myself. Unless specified, nothing is sacred.  
That is all.**

The response was enthusiastic, to say the least; I received a list of almost 30 challenges within a few days. I promptly closed off the challenge while I worked diligently over a period of time, not only on these fight scenes, but on my other works. One by one the fics were written and the challenges were met.

However, before I had finished, I lost computer access for a long while, and promptly forgot about the _Them's' Fightin' Words_ challenge. As of May 2006, I've decided to pick up the old threads again and finish off that long list of requests I got such a long time ago.

The following battles are as requested by the denizens of the _BBS Of The InterNutter_, in accordance with the above rules. Though I wrote them, I didn't come up with the ideas, so if you don't like the way a certain fight pans out – tell it to the judge, not to me. It's not my fault.

Finally, I'll remind you that, as I said, this challenge is actually closed. Reviews are of course welcome, but there's not much point in requesting further fights until I've finished off that original list.

Thanks for reading this intro, and enjoy _Them's Fightin' Words_.

By the way - there was a severe formatting error with the original copy of these stories. All auto-formatted symbols (the ", ', ... and - symbols) became question marks. I've done my best to repair the damage, but it's entirely possible that at one point or another you'll find a question mark in a strange place. Please don't hold it against me - there's a LOT of work to go through here and it's not really that surprising that I've missed the odd one or two.


	2. Kitty vs Logan

**Kitty vs Logan (Deathfic) – Requested by Amicitia**

As far as the other residents of the Institute were concerned, the Danger Room was effectively soundproofed from external noise - meaning that no sound could enter the room, except via the intercom, once the blast-proof doors had sealed. Or so they thought, anyway.  
As Logan stood in the centre of the brightly-lit room, he was under no such illusion. His sensitive hearing picked up the approaching voice even though the huge doors and a short way down the corridor.  
"Says I can't fight... muttergrumble... doesn't know anything... grumblegripemutter... who does he think he is?"  
And with that final exclamation, the owner of the voice entered the room.

As Logan had expected, the doors did not open - instead, Kitty Pryde walked right through them, courtesy of her ability to phase. Once inside the room, her litany of objections was paused until she strode up to the burly Canadian, who now wore a vaguely amused expression on his rough face.  
"This," she announced, "Is stupid. Like, as _if _I need extra training!"  
Logan snorted. "Oh, sure, Half-pint. I believe ya. Which must have been why Dukes dropped ya without a fight over on the beach the other day, right?"  
She scowled furiously. "That was, like, _so _not fair," she retorted. "I, like, had him fall right _through _me! I could see _inside _him! Do you, like, have any idea how gross that is? Of _course _I fainted!"  
"My heart bleeds for ya. Get ready."  
She didn't move, but stared defiantly at Logan. "What about Kurt? Lance beat him up! Or maybe some lessons in teamwork for Scott 'Side-changer' Summers?"  
Logan sighed. "Believe me, they're gonna get it just as bad. But you're up first. Now... get... ready."  
With one last furious scowl, Kitty stalked a few steps back. "...just pissy 'cause Sabretooth beat you..." she muttered under her breath as she did so. Logan growled softly at that.  
"Watch your mouth, Half-pint. Ya forgot about my hearing," he warned her.  
"No," she smirked, "I didn't."

Clamping down on his growing irritation, Logan eyed the angry teenager facing him. "Ready?" he asked. Kitty's response was to remove a previously unseen weapon from a sheath on her back. Logan cocked an eyebrow.  
"What," he asked flatly, "is that?"  
Kitty looked at the long rapier in her hand, then back at him. "It's a potato," she said sarcastically.  
"I can see the goddamn sword," he grated. "I wanna know what it's doing here."  
"I, like, borrowed it from Kurt," she informed him. "Just to make things fair, since you've, like, got your claws."  
"Put it down before ya hurt yourself," he ordered. In return, she flipped him the bird with her free hand.  
"You want me to drop it? Like, first you've gotta make me."

That was it. Logan had had enough, and now he was angry. "Fine," he grated, and advanced with one hand stretched out to take the blade away from Kitty. She made no move to stop him, just watched with one raised eyebrow. Logan grabbed at her hand –  
And failed to grasp her, his hand passing through hers like it wasn't there. Which, in terms of physics, it technically wasn't. Logan's eyes flicked up to meet hers, and he recognised the look there, but it was so unexpected that he didn't react for an instant. That instant was all it took.  
The rapier opened a shallow cut along Logan's ribs, under his raised arm, and Kitty stepped back a full metre, sword raised, circling around to the left with a gin on her face as Logan hissed at the sudden pain.  
"Did I mention that Kurt's been giving me lessons?" she asked mockingly. "No? Like, sorry, must've forgotten or something."  
By the time she finished speaking, two things had happened. One was that the wound she'd given Logan had healed up; the other was that Logan had crossed over into a blind rage.  
"That's how ya wanna play it?" he snarled. "Fine by me."  
And as his claws popped out with a metallic SNIKT, Logan waded in.

As Logan charged at her, Kitty didn't flinch, just waited for him to get within range; slashed once; and phased. A thin line of blood appeared across Logan's face an instant before he ran straight through her, one claw slashing harmlessly though her phased shoulder. Turning, she ran the point of her sword into his back as his momentum carried him past her, and then she stepped back once more.  
As Logan came to a halt, his rage had gone down a notch already. Not much, mind you, but a little bit. Enough for him to switch from 'Red Bloodlust' to 'Cold Fury' – a transition with one important difference. Now, instead of mindless slashes and charges, he thought, planned, strategised. As his wounds healed, he was already planning his next move.  
_If I attack, she goes ghost on me... so I can't hit her... but she's gotta be solid to hit back... so that's when she's vulnerable... that's when I hit her, if I go slow and lead her into it..._  
He grinned mirthlessly.  
Kitty Pryde was about to face the Wolverine in his full fury.

As Logan turned to face her again, Kitty could see the difference. There was a cold glitter in his eyes, his movements were more fluid, he was more visibly on edge. As he began to advance slowly, a thrill ran through her.  
Remedial fighting classes, my ass, she thought. And then he was on her.  
She took a short swing at his head; one clawed hand parried as the other shot in toward her. Kitty stepped swiftly around the arm, brought one knee up into it, moved, drew the sword back – too slowly. Logan's right hand lashed out, the claws slicing a deep cut in her arm. She cried out at the sudden pain, instinctively bringing the sword down, carving it into Logan's side before his left hand cut the sword into four pieces, leaving Kitty with a hilt and six inches of steel.  
Then, as the pain and astonishment dulled her reflexes, she realised what had happened. She'd pushed him too far, and now the blow was coming, but she couldn't phase for the pain in her arm, and…

As his knuckles pressed into flesh, reality came back to Logan. With it, for an instant, came disorientation, and he shook his head to clear it.  
And then he looked at the sight in front of him.  
His knuckles pressed into Kitty's chest, just under her breasts. Between his knuckles sprouted his claws – the tips of which now jutted from Kitty's back. Logan's eyes went wide.  
"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, no..." he whispered. "Shit, no..."  
His claws retracted and, as Kitty slumped, he grabbed her and knelt, holding her, babbling useless denials to himself.  
Suddenly Kitty focused on him. Groaned. Lurched out of his grasp, the hilt of the broken sword falling to the floor with a clatter as Logan reached for her again.  
"Half-pint, hang on, I'll... Oh, Christ, I..."  
His reaching hands clasped her wrists – and at that moment she met his eyes.  
"Bastard," she croaked, before pushing both their hands down, toward the floor, into the floor. And before Logan could react, her hands were withdrawing, leaving his trapped in the solid surface. He couldn't move.  
Logan's eyes went wide and he held his breath, stunned, as Kitty reached down for the hilt of the broken sword – and rammed the remaining six inches of steel into Logan's throat. And there she left it, quivering.  
Logan could only stare in shock as she blinked once; twice; she wobbled slightly as blood ran out the corner of her mouth; swayed more; and finally collapsed from her kneeling position. She landed face down, her eyes wide and staring, in a pool of her own blood.  
Kitty Pryde was dead.

For a full minute, Logan only stared wide-eyed in horror. Then he shook his head in disbelief and released the breath he'd been holding.  
Or tried to.  
His lungs strained, but the air wouldn't exhale, and... And then Logan realised what had happened. The hilt of the sword – and its six-inch blade – had perfectly sealed off his windpipe. Which, by now, had healed around the sword, holding it in place. He couldn't breathe.  
Logan felt the panic rise up again – for while his healing factor allowed him to recover from any wound, suffocation was another matter. He, like any other living thing, needed oxygen to survive. Not even a mutant healing factor could change that.  
By accident or design, Kitty's last living act would avenge her own death; for less than a minute later, after a terrific – and utterly useless – struggle, Logan collapsed at an awkward angle due to his hands, still held in the floor.  
Three minutes later, his body had ceased to function.  
They lay there – student and teacher – side by side in a slowly spreading pool of blood, each dead by the other's hand. The perfect stalemate.

----

Scott and Ororo hurried down the corridor toward the Danger Room.  
"So, what's the problem?" Scott asked.  
"I don't know," Ororo answered him. "Charles merely said that we should go to the Danger Room as quickly as possible. Perhaps there's been an accident during training...?"  
They reached the door, and Scott glanced at a computer console. "It says here that the last two users were Kitty and Logan," he noted aloud. He hit the door release button. "With just those two... how bad can it be?"  
The door to the brightly lit room slid open.


	3. Kitty vs Amanda

**Kitty vs Amanda (Danger Room, Fighting over Kurt, Kitty wins) – Requested by Meredith**

Kitty raised her weapon and smiled down at her victim.  
"Goodbye," she whispered.

**SPLAT**

Over at the sink, Jean shook her head. "Kitty, that's just a little disturbing. Stop it.? The brunette looked up from her work.  
"What?" she asked, confused. "You told me to do this!"  
"I told you to mash the potatoes," Jean informed her. "I never told you to talk to them first."  
Kitty frowned. "Oh, come on. Like, as if it's hurting anyone? At least let me have a little fun..."  
Jean shook her head again. "Fun is one thing. Torturing the vegetables is another. Especially when you're projecting at full volume and I have to fight the urge to stomp on these tomatoes."  
Kitty sniggered at that mental image before letting out a sigh. "But this is, like, so unfair! I mean, first Kurt gets to have Amanda sleep over, which is against the rules. Then we have to make them dinner! Seriously, I never even got offered this when I was with Lance!"  
Jean resumed stuffing her chicken. "Okay, first, I don't need to honour the reference to Lance with a response. Second, the Professor is more lenient toward Kurt for the simple reason that he can't go out that often. Third, the pay-off is that if anything happens, anything that calls for the X-Men to show up, Kurt is on first call whether Amanda is here or not. And fourth..."  
"What's fourth?"  
"Fourth, mash the stupid potatoes. But do it quietly. And stop projecting."  
Kitty snorted, but picked up the masher and got back to work. For a few minutes, neither of them said anything, until finally Jean spoke without looking up.  
"Kitty, why don't you like Amanda?"  
Kitty shrugged. "Because we don't really know her, is all. She just popped up one day, showed interest, and suddenly Kurt's mooning around like a lovesick puppy."  
"Nice analogy," commented Jean, "But bad excuse. Try again."  
"I mean it!" insisted Kitty. "Look, Kurt's my friend, and I worry about him. He trusts people too easily. Look at what happened with Tabitha!"  
Jean nodded. "Who you got along with just fine until Kurt started seeing her.? Kitty said nothing, but instead glared down at the potatoes. "Kitty, is it at all possible that you're just a tiny bit jealous of Amanda? Only a little bit?"  
"No!" Kitty answered quickly - just a little too quickly, and a little too loudly. She covered it with an unconvincing fake laugh. "Geez, Jean! You're, like, worse than Rogue!"  
Jean lowered the knife she'd been using and turned around. "Kitty, look," she said softly. "I know-"  
Kitty, still facing away from Jean, gripped the bowl of mashed potatoes with both hands. "Jean," she interrupted suddenly. "Now I'm not, like, a telepath or anything, so I'm not sure what you're going to say. But just so you know? If it sounds even a little like one of your 'sympathetic understanding' speeches, I swear here and now that I will empty this bowl over your head. Kurt is my friend and I worry about him. That is all. Now drop the topic, okay?"  
For another moment, Jean looked at Kitty's back, then, shaking her head, she picked up the knife again and resumed slicing bread. At the sound, Kitty let out a silent breath and started preparing some carrots. Other than maybe being a little annoyed, she looked fine.  
But inside, although she wouldn't even admit it to herself, she was dreading the moment when she'd have to deliver the meal to the radiantly happy elf.

----

An hour later, Kitty delivered the meal to the furiously indignant elf.  
"You've got to be kidding me!" he was saying. "One night! All I'm asking for is one night where I don't have to run off and save the world! Can't someone else do it? Bitte?"  
Charles massaged his brow. "Kurt," he repeated for the umpteenth time, "you agreed to these terms when you planned this evening. I allowed you to bend the rules this far. But now you are needed - and I don't just mean because of the agreement. For this task, we'd need you anyway. Nobody else is quite as capable for what we need."  
Kitty nudged Scott, who was standing by the door. "What's going on?"  
"The Brotherhood are robbing a department store. The Professor's worried that they'll attract police attention, so he wants us to get rid of them before anyone else finds out they're inside the building."  
Kitty nodded. "And Kurt was planning a night off," she summarised. In spite of the disappointment she felt for her friend, there was a tiny voice inside her that was pleased that the 'special night' had been cancelled. She squashed it. "Look," she sighed halfheartedly, "I can go instead of Kurt if that makes things easier." Scott shook his head sadly.  
"I'm sure Kurt would appreciate the offer, but we need him specifically. Toad got inside the heating vents of the store and he's using them to ferry stuff outside. Once he's holed up in there, Kurt's the only one capable of flushing him out."  
"Spend an evening with Amanda, or chase Toad up and down a cramped, hot metal pipe," Kitty murmured under her breath. "Tough choice..."  
Scott hadn't caught the words and cocked his head. "What?"  
"What?" asked Kitty, feigning innocence. Scott looked at her skeptically.  
"I heard something," he muttered, looking back at Kurt. Who, at that moment, despite all arguments and objections, gave in and stalked over to them.  
"He knows! That verdammt slimeball knew, somehow, that I had plans tonight, and this is to ruin them! I know it! Jeder verdammt mal! Das bloede kleine grüne..." as Kurt's rant slid into various German obscenities, Kitty held up one hand.  
"Fuzzy," she cut him off. "Calm down. Save the anger for when you're beating up Toad, okay?"  
At that suggestion, an evil light seemed to come into Kurt's eyes. "Ja," he breathed. "I'll save it all for the slimeball..." and with a short bow, he vanished -

**BAMF**

- to reappear on the other side of the room, where Amanda stood near the dinner table with a worried frown on her face.  
"Bad news, meine liebe," he informed her. "I have to go to work. I'll be back as fast as I can... want me to bring back Toad's head as a present?"  
Amanda laughed through her disappointment. "Nice thought, sweetie, but what would I do with it?"  
Kurt appeared to think about this. "Scare the kids at Halloween?"

----

A short time later, Kitty was loading the dishes and platters into the oven to keep them warm. Hearing the door open, she glanced up - and made direct eye contact with Amanda as she walked into the kitchen.  
Had anyone else been present, they'd have sworn that the temperature dropped twenty degrees at that moment.  
Forcing a smile, Kitty quickly returned her attention to the oven and faked a cheery tone. "Do you want anything to eat? This stuff's still warm..."  
"No thanks," Amanda replied absently. "I'll wait for Kurt." At that, unseen by Amanda, a corner of Kitty's mouth turned up.  
"Hmm. Turning down food for Kurt. Now that's loyalty."  
Amanda's eyes narrowed, but no other sign indicated that she was aware she'd been insulted. She continued walking forwards slowly. "Oh, well, it's a happy medium. I mean, some people just starve themselves - they end up looking like toothpicks with heads - and it's so sad, you know? See, they just don't seem to realise how bad that looks."  
A dangerous light was coming into Kitty's eyes. "Really?" she said softly. "Is that a fact?"  
"Oh, sure," Amanda continued brightly. "Just look around - all of them are single, aren't they? I mean, do you know a single girl like that with a boyfriend?"  
Kitty changed her tone to match Amanda's. "No, can't say I do," she responded. "But then, maybe those girls just don't want to seem desperate. Like, I know some girls - really bitchy ones - who just latch onto a lonely, decent guy and hold onto him like grim death, just so they can say they're not single. It's so pathetic, you know?"  
Amanda came to a stop one meter away from Kitty. "And these... pathetic bitches..." she said slowly. "Would I know any of them from school or somewhere? Just so I can get a clue, here?"  
"Oh, I don't know if you can get a clue, Amanda," Kitty replied in the same sugary voice. "But then, you might know one of them. She's, like, the biggest skank of them all."

The tension in the room was a palpable thing. At last, Amanda dropped all pretense.  
"Kitty, you can be jealous and bitter and immature and pathetic all you damn well want. But if you don't stop throwing it in my face, I will drop you like the dumb little bitch that you are."  
Kitty's fake angelic smile dropped away. "Sorry, Amanda, but even if you can move fast enough underneath all that blubber to beat a five-year-old, you couldn't drop me if you tried."  
Amanda's stare was ice. "Try me, bitch."  
"Oh, you bet your enormous ass I will."

----

Six minutes and forty-seven seconds later, Amanda looked around the Danger Room, seeing it for the first time. As the highly-polished metal walls bounced her reflection back at her, she smirked and glanced at Kitty.  
"Wow, a big, dark hole in the ground where you can look at yourself the whole time. Kitty, you must love it here!" she commented.  
"And if it only had a McDonald's, it'd be perfect for you," Kitty retorted.  
Amanda gritted her teeth. "So, is this actually going to probe anything? Or are you just hoping that Kurt will give you some sympathy afterwards?"  
Kitty snorted. "Puh-leez. You think this is only about Kurt?"  
"Then what is it about?" Amanda responded quickly. "Why do you want to get into a fight with me, Kitty, if this has nothing to do with Kurt? Please, just get over yourself and admit that you're just... plain... jealous."  
Kitty stepped very close. "Oh, no, Amanda, it's not just jealousy. Even if I was jealous."  
"No?" Amanda asked, almost whispering now. "Then if you're not jealous, what are you?"  
"So awesomely pissed off."

**THWACK!**

Amanda reeled back a few paces, holding her jaw where Kitty had landed a sudden backhanded punch. Then she shook her head and glared at Kitty even harder.  
"You skinny little bitch," she spat. Kitty smirked.  
"What's wrong, 'Manda?" she cooed. "One punch is enough for you?"  
"You wish," Amanda grated. "But since you'll just phase on me if I go after you, there's not much point, now is there?"  
"Oh, no, no, no," Kitty corrected her smugly. "I only phase when I'm, like, going to lose a fight. You, I'm going to beat the old-fashioned way."  
Amanda smiled coldly. "Then bring it on."

Kitty walked forward slowly, calmly, her arms at her sides. In three steps, she was in range, and snapped up her left hand in a flash with a short stabbing punch aimed at Amanda's midriff. An instant later, she launched a roundhouse punch with her right while Amanda looked at her left. But Amanda was ready - she spun sideways, catching the low left with one raised knee and blocking the right-hander easily on one forearm. Then she attacked, a quick swiping chop at the base of Kitty's neck that the small brunette only barely caught, her own hand shooting up and stopping the blow inches from striking.  
Pushing Amanda's hand away and stepping back a little, Kitty's mind raced. She'd expected Amanda to be clumsy, slow, predictable, but instead the girl moved like lightning and knew her stuff, which could only mean that...  
"Self-defence classes, 'Manda? I'm impressed."  
"Jujitsu," she sneered. "Kurt likes a girl who can handle herself."  
_Which means_, Kitty thought, _that she's almost as fast, a little stronger, a little taller, a_ lot _heavier, and she knows how to fight.  
Maybe this wasn't such a great idea..._  
But it was far too late for misgivings, because Amanda then advanced once more.

The bigger girl let loose a heavy rain of punches and chops as she moved in, swinging both hands in synch; Kitty blocked swiftly, martial arts style, catching some on her forearms and shoulders and dodging some by stepping backwards as Amanda came forward. She weaved swiftly, and Amanda overreached, losing her balance - and then it was Kitty's turn.  
The smaller valley girl didn't strike quite so hard, but she moved faster, advancing as she fought, claiming back the ground she'd lost while defending. A few seconds later, Amanda stumbled as she moved back; Kitty stepped in close to take an advantage.  
Too late, she saw the smirk on Amanda's face. It was a feint.  
Amanda spun on one foot and landed a heel in the small of Kitty's back; Kitty stumbled forwards; and as she passed, Amanda lashed out. Blood dripped from Kitty's nose as she came to a halt, and she instinctively struck behind her with a swinging kick - catching Amanda by surprise as she came up behind. A grunt and a wheeze informed Kitty that she'd wounded her opponent, giving her time to move out of reach.  
For an instant, they glared at one another, panting.  
Then they engaged again.

Amanda changed tactics. As Kitty swung, she caught the blow on her right wrist; then, with an abrupt twist, she grabbed the arm in her hand.. A left jab to Kitty's collarbone distracted the valley girl long enough for Amanda to take a real advantage - she twisted Kitty's arm around behind her and, squeezing Kitty's neck with one hand, forced the smaller girl to kneel with Amanda holding her down from behind. Amanda grinned.  
"Pressure points," she hissed in Kitty's ear. "Learned it in Jujitsu."  
Kitty grimaced in pain and spoke through gritted teeth. "Nice... but do you... know what you... didn't learn in... Jujitsu?"  
Without waiting for an answer, Kitty brought her free hand downwards - hard - in a swift punch that landed squarely on the tip of Amanda's left foot. The response was instantaneous; a muffled snap announced that two of Amanda's toes had broken, and the pressure on Kitty's neck and arm slipped.  
Kitty shot to her feet, bringing her head back sharply, headbutting Amanda in the face as she rose. While the bigger girl staggered back, one eye swelling, Kitty turned to face her and smirked.  
"In Jujitsu," she explained, "they don't teach you to fight rough."

----

Upstairs, a cloud of smoke billowed out from nowhere with a brief flash of amber light and a small explosion of sound. Kurt, dressed in a now-torn uniform, one eye blackened and one lip swollen, looked around in confusion.  
"Amanda?" he called to the empty room. A moment later, the door swung open and Scott and Evan, still dressed in their own respective uniforms, entered.  
"K-Man, slow down," Evan called. "Have a break first. Toad hit you pretty hard back there."  
"He's right, Kurt," Scott agreed. "Jean's finding you some aspirin. You're lucky you don't have a concussion after that fight."  
Kurt snorted. "I'm lucky? Hah. You should have seen what I did to Toad," he retorted. The other two winced.  
"I did," Scott assured him. Evan shuddered.  
"Dude, you can be nasty when you're pissed off, you know that? I mean, I don't like Todd, but... damn."  
The blue teen sighed. "Alright. Aspirin first, then Amanda. Now, where did Jean go?"  
"I think she said the kitchen," Scott supplied.

----

Kitty rammed an elbow into Amanda's kidneys a second before she brought her head down with a handful of hair. "Now who's handling themselves, bitch?" she smirked.  
Amanda growled and suddenly, with surprising strength, launched a series of punches at Kitty's head and chest. One struck her cheek, starting to bruise instantly; in retaliation, Kitty kicked Amanda in the shin, and the bigger girl fell to her knees.

----

Kurt gulped down two aspirin and sighed. "Now can I go find Amanda?" he asked plaintively. Jean chuckled.  
"Sure. I'll just find her, and..." she trailed off, eyes wide.  
Rogue stuck her head in the door. "Have any of y'all seen Kitty?" she asked. Jean groaned.  
"Oh, noooo... dammit, I thought she vented all this frustration on the potatoes..."  
Everyone stared at her.  
"Jean, what the hell are you talking about?" Scott asked.  
She rubbed her forehead. "Kurt, Amanda's in the Danger Room... but I should warn you, it's not pretty..."

----

Amanda lay on her back on the floor, glaring up at Kitty, a new bruise appearing on her forehead, panting.  
Standing over her, Kitty grinned, also panting. "I win," she announced smugly.

**BAMF **

"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME IS GOING ON HERE?"  
Both girls froze. "Um... hi, Kurt..." Kitty managed.  
"Kurt!" Amanda gasped from the floor. "This bitch... she..."  
"You're fighting. I go off to stop the Brotherhood from destroying a department store, and I come back to see my girlfriend and one of my best friends trying to kill each other." Kurt was looking back and forth, stunned.  
Both girls pointed at each other. "She started it," they said in unison.  
Kurt threw up his hands. "Idiots. I'm surrounded by idiots."  
Amanda looked furious. "Kurt, I swear, she-"  
"I don't want to hear it," he cut her off. Amanda boggled at him.  
"You're taking _her _side?" she demanded.  
Kurt rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Nein. I'm not taking anyone's side. All I'm saying is that -"  
Amanda struggled to her feet. "For Christ"s _sake_!" she exploded. "First, you blow me off for our dinner. Then, your friend beats me up. Then, you take _her _side over _mine_!"  
"Leibes, I-"  
"Don't you leebz me," she growled. "This has been, without doubt, the absolute worst night of my life! Because of you!"  
"Amand-"  
"No! I don't care about it, Kurt! That's it! We're over, and I'm going home!"  
And Amanda stalked out of the open doors, not even looking at the other four students who stood there, having run down to see what was going on.

Kurt stared after her for a moment, stunned. Then he looked back at Kitty. "She just broke up with me. Because you got into a fight with her while I was gone."  
Kitty nodded nervously. "Um... yeah... kinda..."  
Kurt stepped away. "These people are completely insane," he said, mostly to himself. Then he looked back at Kitty. "This had better be a dream, Kitty. I'm going to bed."

**BAMF **

Jean walked over to the bruised and battered Kitty.  
"He's right, you know," she commented. "You are insane. And an idiot."  
Kitty nodded. "Yeah. But I kicked her ass." She rubbed one of her injuries. "And now I need a bath. Bye!"  
Kitty walked right past Jean, who stood there, stunned. "Kurt's going to be furious at you when he works out that this really happened," she yelled as Kitty left the room.  
"I know!" Kitty called back. "Goodnight!"  
Jean shook her head in astonishment, and looked around. For some reason, she was alone.  
"Scott? Evan?"

----

Scott sighed. "Evan, what are you doing? You grabbed me and dragged me up here, and now I want to know why."  
Evan looked over from what he was doing at the Danger Room control console. "Dude, word association. Kitty and Amanda. Catfight. Danger Room. Security cameras. Video tape." He raised en eyebrow. "Making any connections here?"  
Scott thought about this.  
Then he sat down, looking at the console.  
Evan grinned and hit 'PLAY'.


	4. Jamie vs Logan

**Jamie vs Logan (Audience, Jamie wins) – Requested by Neemers**

Rogue pulled up a chair next to Kitty, watching the action intently.  
"What'd I miss?" she whispered.  
Kitty inclined her head toward the Goth without looking away from the sight before them. "Sam got beaten while you were in the bathroom; now it's Ray's turn."  
Rahne shot a black look over at them. "Do ye really have to sit there and make fun of us?" she growled, nursing her various injuries.  
"Yep," Scott answered. "You wanna make the cut, you've got to impress us as well."  
"But I wouldn't worry," commented Jean. "If anyone can actually beat him, then we'll be pretty damn impressed anyway."  
Bobby groaned. "How about being impressed by a brave sacrifice?" he tried. Kurt only snorted at that.  
"Brave? Bobby, it took all our persuading to get you out here, and even then you nearly cut and run."  
"I don't see you volunteering," Bobby shot back.  
"Because I don't have to. How many kinds of idiot do you think I am? I'm sitting here, laughing, for the simple reason that I'm not you."  
"Just what I was thinking about you the other day, Kurt," quipped Jubilee. Rogue raised an eyebrow.  
"You're pretty cheerful, lookin' at what's comin' your way," she commented.  
"Bravery in the face of death, girl. If I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die smiling."

----

The residents of the Institute were assembled outdoors, behind the building itself, for an uncommon event; an open-air training session. While only the New Mutants were taking part in it, the rest had come out to watch, due to the importance of the session. For it was after this that a new 'active' member of the team would be chosen from the ranks of the New Mutants.  
It had been three months since Evan's unexpected departure from the Institute. The others were still feeling his absence, in particular Kurt and Ororo, having been deprived of their best friend and nephew respectively. However, it was also keenly felt at the loss of a teammate, giving them somewhat of a disadvantage in most scenarios where a show of strength was called for. Therefore, after a fortnight of intensive training by the 'inactive' students, the gap would now be filled by one of them.  
The catch, however, was that they had to fight Logan to do it.

It had, ironically enough, been the Professor's suggestion. While he was usually the first to reprimand Logan for his harsh techniques, he'd made an exception, reasoning that it was the best possible preparation. A new team member who could hold their own against the Wolverine would, presumably, be able to deal with almost any other threat that came their way. So, the instructions had been simple: fight Logan, one at a time. Whoever put up the best effort against him would be chosen as the next team member.  
They'd drawn straws to see what order they would fight in. Roberto had gone first; twenty-three seconds later, as Hank carried the unconscious boy to the hospital wing, Charles had suggested that Logan tone his actions down a bit. Since then he'd been slightly less aggressive, but even so he'd beaten Amara, Bobby, Rahne and now Sam, one after the other. Ray, Jubilee and Jamie remained to test their capabilities. A minor betting ring had broken out amongst the elder students, with various amounts being placed on each prospective teammate; so far, the most popular bet was on Amara. She hadn't lasted long - none of them had - but she'd gained some support after managing to set Logan on fire a few times in their short encounter.

----

THUMP

Ray crumpled in a sad heap as he landed, and Charles blew a whistle, signaling the end of the fight. The spectators broke out into polite applause, and Kurt and Kitty held up score placards they'd decided to use. Amara read the score and scowled indignantly.  
"Seventeen points?" she demanded. "You gave that filthy peasant Seventeen points? I demand to know why he received such a high score when mine was only fourteen."  
Kitty shrugged. "He lasted seven and a half minutes. You only went for four and a half."  
"And Ray got more hits in," added Kurt. "Not quite as funny as seeing Logan on fire, but still... it was worth more points, is all."  
"Don't worry," consoled Kitty. "You're still coming second."  
Amara made a 'hrmph' sound and turned her attention to Jubilee, who had risen to her feet and was striding defiantly out to meet their tormentor. The audience cheered.

Jubilee snapped her gum as she reached Logan. "Can we just save time by me forfeiting?" she asked.  
"Nope."  
"Can I take a dive?"  
"Nope."  
"Can I bribe you?"  
"Nope."  
"Am I allowed to pray?"  
"Ya got one minute."  
Jubilee shrugged. "Hey, it's something."

----

Jubilee got her one minute, as it was. She spent most of the 'prayer time' making rude faces behind Logan's back.  
She then spent the next six getting a fresh pattern of bruises over the larger part of her body. After which time, when Logan relented, she limped off in search of some ice. Her score was an 18, the highest yet; as far as they could see, however, Jubilee didn't care a whole lot about her score, and was busily making death threats against Logan under her breath.

There was one other person, however, who wasn't even remotely interested in Jubilee's score. This individual was concentrating on keeping his right arm still, a nervous twitch having started minutes before, causing it to tremble uncontrollably. It was one of the many features that betrayed Jamie's rather extreme fear of the coming encounter.  
There had been some debate as to whether they should actually make Jamie participate in the trial. Logan, however, had prevailed, pointing out that regardless of whether Jamie was chosen for the team, it was still better that he take part - training was training, after all. And so, last in line after drawing the longest straw, Jamie waited to be called up and fight Wolverine.  
He wished his arm would stop trembling.

"Last one. Squirt! Get out here and get it over with!"

----

Jamie's right arm was still shaking as he stood in front of Logan; he was also unusually pale, wide-eyed, and reeking of utter terror. In spite of himself, Logan actually felt a pang of pity for the boy, but didn't let it show - he just nodded at Hank, who started a stopwatch, and begun the session. Then he looked back at his diminutive opponent, took three steps forward and made a short, vicious swipe at Jamie's temple, opting to get it over with quickly.  
No such luck.  
Jamie's reflexes, in spite of what some people thought, were actually exceptionally good. They weren't matched by any amount of co-ordination, but nonetheless he was able to react quickly to oncoming threats - more so now that he was looking for them, since he perceived anything Logan did to be a life-threatening act. As such, Jamie saw the blow coming a mile away. He blanched; ducked; jumped back with a squeak; and, being Jamie, tripped over his own feet to sprawl on his backside on the ground. He rolled to one side as Logan came on, stopped on his knees, got to his feet and backed away quickly.  
It was only then that he noticed the three multiples, spawned by his fall, that had done the exact same thing

For a split second, Logan paused. Putting one terrified kid out of his misery was one thing; dealing with four was another. Then, mentally shrugging, he advanced, deciding that no matter what happened, he was going to deal with the problem in the same way, and delaying wouldn't do anything.  
Three of the four Jamies scattered, running around behind Logan as he came on. The fourth, blocked from escape by the other three, could only stand there as Logan reached him and lifted him off the ground with one hand.

----

Jamie - at least he thought he was the original - had ducked around the oncoming Logan with two of his multiples. Now, behind the Canadian, he saw the fourth multiple being held up with one hand as the other bunched itself into a metal-laced fist.  
Looking back on what happened next, Jamie would marvel at just how idiotic his next action seemed. Then and there, however, no thought entered his mind; instead, working on instinct alone, he charged at Logan's back, jumped at the drawn-back fist, grabbed it, and hung off it like a limpet.

Logan raised one side of his eyebrow as the second Jamie grabbed him, giving him one hanging from each hand. Then he simply brought them together, knocking both Jamies into each other and sending them tumbling to the ground ---- together with six others. The landing created another four. As they began to get up, Logan had just enough time to wonder how he was going to deal with an exponential opponent before a sudden weight struck him in the back.

Two weights, in fact; the other two Jamies from the original four. They landed on his shoulders and, in perfect tandem, hung on with one hand and began beating Logan with their free fist. Logan growled, staggered slightly, then threw one off. The other hung on and began kicking with both feet; a moment later, he too went flying.  
Momentarily free from attackers, Logan stepped back a few paces, considering the growing number of Jamies in front of him. A few seconds later, however, the first few regained their feet and ran at him, shouting wordlessly as they came.  
The first one, Logan swatted aside easily; the second he sidestepped and thumped in the back as he passed. The third and fourth reached him, one slamming into his stomach like a blunt arrow, the other diving low and latching onto Logan's ankles, preventing him from moving. Logan's breath left him as he was pummeled briefly in the stomach, before he simply threw the Jamie away; next he kicked one foot fiercely, breaking it from the other Jamie's grasp.  
Then another four threw themselves at him.

----

The spectators stared, open mouthed at the sight before them; Logan stood, roaring and snarling in fury, with Jamies hanging off his shoulders, his arms, even one from his neck. Around him sprawled piles, many crawling over and clutching at him, trying to drag him down to be overwhelmed.  
Kurt leaned over toward Jean. "Jean," he said carefully, "just to check I'm right, here - it is impossible for Jamie to beat Logan, ja?"  
Jean nodded, still staring at the spectacle in front of her. "Yeah, I'd have thought so," she murmured. Kurt nodded with her.  
"Ah. I thought so. In which case – what's going on here?"  
Scott answered him. "Jamie's breaking the fundamental laws of the universe. And we get front-row seats."  
Kurt nodded again. "Ah. Alright, then."  
They kept watching.

----

Logan was struggling wildly in the grip of over twenty Jamies, and was roaring profanities at a great pace - the majority of which, however, were aimed not at Jamie but at the audience, who'd begun to cheer his diminutive but numerically overwhelming opponents and direct their laughter at him. Finally managing to shake the clinging Jamie from around his neck, he looked around and decided that things needed changing.  
Bracing himself, he paused momentarily - then rolled back in a cartwheel. This was a trick often used by Kurt when fighting, to give himself more space, and the only method Logan could see to get himself out of the quagmire of multiples that threatened to swamp him.  
It worked. The Jamies clinging to his upper body were thrown off as their centre of gravity swung in a full vertical arc; those grabbing at his legs and lower body lost their grip, save one that managed to remove Logan's left boot. Logan himself, however, managed to get a full three metres away, where he dropped into a classic defensive pose, eyes narrowed at the pile of Jamies he'd left behind.  
Then he heard a dull roar behind him.  
He turned.  
And for the first time in memory, felt fear.

Three metres away from him stood a lone Jamie, hands clasped behind his back, a cherubic smile on his face. All that was missing was a halo. The original Jamie, safe from harm.  
And behind him, around thirty multiples, give or take a few.  
Logan spun back - to see at least forty more standing behind him, more appearing every second as they pushed and shoved one another for that purpose. In a matter of seconds, he was surrounded by almost a hundred of them.  
He let out a nervous breath. "Okay, Squirt, ya made yer point. Now join back, and - _eeeeiiiiiiiaaargchhhhhhh_..."  
The sentence was cut off with a strangled squeaking sound as a shoe - HIS shoe - was thrown forward with uncanny accuracy to connect solidly with his groin. In an irresistibly instinctive move, he bent over at the waist, gasping, suffering the most severe pain the human male has developed the capacity to feel.  
And a tidal wave of multiples surged in.

----

Twenty seconds later, the original Jamie turned away from the chaos to glance at the audience. He received a standing ovation from the others (except for the Professor, of course) as Logan, flat on the ground, tried feebly to dislodge the enormous pile of multiples that completely hid him from view.  
"My God," Bobby muttered. "He's like a nasty little Agent Smith, isn't he?"  
Jean snorted. "If Agent Smith were a hobbit."  
Scott just shook his head. ?You two watch way too many movies," was his only comment.  
Jamie's combined score from Kurt and Kitty was a 21. "Ten points from each of us," was the explanation, "and an extra one for the shoe." No complaint was heard from Amara about the score.  
And it was a full month before Logan was willing to speak to Jamie again.


	5. Kurt vs Kurt vs Kurt

**Kurt vs Kurt vs Kurt (Movie-Comic-Evo Crossover) – Requested by Christa Winters**

Kurt Wagner rubbed his eyes as he stared around himself in wonder. A short moment ago, he'd been preparing to leave the Institute for the Sunday mass. Dressed in his usual black clothes, the white collar shining at his neck, he'd planned to be at the Cathedral within half an hour. Teleporting from his room, he'd aimed at the kitchen downstairs.  
But now, as the smoke cleared, it seemed he was already at Church. Or would, if his own Church were even partially as magnificent as this.  
This room alone seemed to be the size of a stadium. The roof was divided into four incredible domes, held up with beams, and many pillars that stretched down to the tiled floor, some sixty feet below. Many, many doors faced out from each wall, with twice as many windows letting streams and shafts of light into the enormous hall. At one end - the end nearest to him - was a magnificent display of stone and ivory sculpture, depicting several figures of power standing around a centrepiece, a symbol of a five-pointed star, the sides carved with archaic runes.  
It was then that he realised this was no Church - for one thing, the room was devoid of any known religious symbols, though the architecture was similar.  
And for the first time, he suddenly wondered where on Earth he was.

----

Kurt Wagner nervously cracked open his eyes. Under him he heard a muffled voice.  
"Kurt? Did he hit us?"  
When the elf made no reply, Jean pushed him off and looked around herself. Her jaw dropped.  
"My God..." she whispered. "Kurt... what is this place?"  
"I do not know..." he answered softly, gazing wide-eyed at the magnificent structure around them. "...I have never seen this place before..."  
At that, the redheaded telepath returned her attention to him. "Huh? Did you teleport blind?"  
"No," he answered, still looking around him. "I aimed near the grove of trees, twenty metres south of the Blackbird. I was trying to get you away from Sabretooth, not leave the others behind us."  
"I didn't think you were. But if you weren't trying to come here..."  
"...Where are we?" he finished for her. "I have no idea. I can't feel anything familiar about this place."  
A look of concentration crossed Jean's features for a moment, swiftly replaced by a worried frown. "Kurt… try to teleport again."

He did so.  
And failed.  
"Was?" he asked, wide-eyed. "I can't!"  
Jean nodded. "Yeah. That's what I thought. None of my powers are working for some reason."  
Kurt drew in a deep breath. "So. We are taken from a battle with the Acolytes to some bizarre masonite hall where we cannot use our abilities."  
Jean let out a breath. "I don't like the look of this..."

----

Kurt Wagner's eyes flashed briefly, the only thing that betrayed his confusion, as he landed lightly on the stone floor, the residue of his teleport clearing around him.  
He'd aimed for the Oval Office.  
This was not the Oval Office.  
Even as he stood there, a voice replayed through his mind.  
_Your target is the President of the United States of America. You will find and eliminate the target. All other personnel are incidental. Eliminate them as the need arises_.  
He never once paused to look closely at the marvellous building around him. He never stopped for more than an instant to decide which way to turn next. He said nothing.  
_Your target is the President of the United States of America. You will find and eliminate the target. All other personnel are incidental. Eliminate them as the need arises_.  
Bounding up, he began to scale one of the many huge pillars that filled the hall, heading for the roof. A faint growling sound issued from deep in his throat as he went. He was intent on his instructions, and nothing else mattered.  
_Your target is the President of the United_...

----

Kurt strolled casually through the enormous hall, still looking about him in wonder. Picking a door at random, he strode up to it, opened it, and walked through.  
Through the door was an identical hall - which, a moment later, he realised was exactly the same hall.  
"Ah, the joys of a circular world," he muttered under his breath. He was, however, in a different part of the hall, and from where he now stood he could hear faint voices. Encouraged, he trotted off in that direction.

"...we can get home?"  
Kurt sighed. "Jean, if I don't know how we got here, and I cannot teleport besides, how can I get us home?"  
Jean's temper flared, ever-so-slightly. "Look, Kurt, it's not my fault we're here!"  
"Oh, so I take it it's mine?"  
"Well, I wasn't the one who teleported us into oblivion!"  
"Fein! Next time, I won't! You can just deal with Sabretooth yourself, if my help is not welcome. Most people would have at least thanked me by now for saving their verdammt life, but nooooo, you yell at me because something bad happened that I didn't cause..."  
That stopped her. She sighed. "Alright. I'm sorry, Kurt. Thank you for helping me. But I'm just a little panicked, here, and you just shrugging and saying 'I don't know' isn't helping."  
Kurt snorted. "Oh? So what would you have me say? It's not like I planned this. Still, if me being here isn't helping, fine - you can stay here and panic in solitude. I'm going to look around."  
So saying, he stepped away, walking around a nearby pillar. Jean immediately ran after him.  
"Kurt! Look, I'm sorry! I just-"  
She cut herself off as she saw him, standing perfectly still, just around the pillar. When he took a step back, she walked up behind him to see what was wrong.  
And gasped.

It was like looking into a mirror - a mirror that allowed a transition through space and time, one side young, the other old. Jean's head swivelled back and forth between the two figures, mouth hanging open in astonishment.  
There were two of him. Two Kurts. One, she knew - normal, teenage Kurt, dressed in his black-red-and-yellow uniform. The other... he looked around thirty, though it wasn't easy to tell the age of the blue-furred figure. And his clothes; he was dressed like... a priest?  
In perfect unison, the two Kurts spoke.  
"Who are you?"  
They blinked.  
"What is this place?"  
Priest-Kurt held up his hand. "Alright. Hold on a moment, ne?"  
Teen-Kurt nodded. "That's best. You first."  
Speaking slowly, the older Kurt never broke eye contact with his younger counterpart. "My name is Father Kurt Wagner. Nightcrawler. I am a member of an organisation known as the X-Men. Five minutes ago I was about to leave for a service, and teleported. I arrived here. I have no idea where I am, and less idea how to get home."  
The younger Elf nodded. "And I'm the same person. Five minutes ago I was in a fight with my friend here. I teleported us out of danger. Now we have the same problem you have, it seems."  
At that, the older Kurt noticed the redhead, still standing stunned.  
"Jean?"  
She started. "You _know _me?" she asked incredulously.  
"Ja. Well, sort of. I know an older version of you. I did, I mean. You look just like the old photos of her, anyway."  
Something there had caught her attention. "What do you mean, did?"  
Priest-Kurt fidgeted nervously. "You... you were slain, almost a month ago."  
At which point, Jean's brain threw up its hands and officially quit its job.

----

"...good, now keep the pressure on her wrist, and she should wake - ah!"  
Jean's eyes fluttered open. Two Nightcrawlers grinned down at her. Above them, light shone on the domed roof.  
She squeezed her eyes shut again.  
"Damn..." she muttered. "...Wasn't a dream..."  
"Nein, we're still here," agreed Teen-Kurt, releasing her wrist. She glanced at Priest-Kurt.  
"I'm dead?" she asked plaintively.  
He nodded. "Ja. I'm afraid so. But don't worry - it's almost been a month. You usually come back about now."  
Teen-Kurt and Jean blinked in unison. "What?"  
"Well, you see..." Priest-Kurt shrugged. "You tend to die a lot. But you always come back. We don't really know why. This is the third time."  
Jean slumped back again. "Great," she groaned. "I'm going to grow up to be a zombie..."  
Teen-Kurt just looked up at his older self. "So... what do we do now?"  
"Perhaps I can help with that," came a voice from one side.

A tiny little man. No more than four feet high, with white hair that hung down past his waist, and a soft, smooth voice. His eyes were a vibrant green, and he was dressed in a flowing white robe. An enigmatic smile was on his face as the three gaped at him.  
Teen-Kurt spoke first. "...and you are..?"  
The little man bowed. "I am Guel-därn," he answered, bowing. "Custodian of the Chamber of the Vortex Lords."  
Priest-Kurt blinked. "Where?"  
"The Chamber of the Vortex Lords," Guel-därn repeated. "Where we now stand."  
Teen-Kurt frowned. "Who are the Vortex Lords?" he asked.  
Guel-därn smiled again. "Beings of awesome power," he responded. "They rule the Great Vortex and all of the Domains within - what I believe you refer to as the Universe, and the Worlds from which it is made."  
"Different dimensions?" asked Jean in bewilderment.  
"Yes, if you prefer. That will suffice. But I believe you know of the Vortex Lords, or at least some of them. One is known as the Phoenix; another is the Apocalypse. Such are the Vortex Lords. There are Seven. I am the custodian of this Chamber, the keystone to their united power, which holds the Great Vortex together."  
Priest-Kurt nodded, taking this in. "And how did we come here?" he asked.  
Guel-därn held his hands out apologetically. "This was no design of mine," he said simply. "It is the nature of your being that you can navigate the Vortex. One of the Lords - Selexor, if you are interested - sent a great wave of energy through the Vortex not long ago. It ensnared three travelers, bringing them here. A pure accident."  
"So how do we get home?" Teen-Kurt asked.  
"We shall wait. One of the Lords will doubtless come in time. He shall return you to your rightful Domains. That is, once we have found the third traveller..."  
Priest-Kurt looked puzzled. "But there are three of us here..."  
Guel-därn shook his head respectfully. "No. You number two travellers, and one passenger. She has come by the will of a traveller. But there is a third traveller - one such as you - somewhere in this hall. Doubtless we shall come upon him soon."  
Jean frowned. "Can't you just find him?" she demanded.  
"I am afraid that I cannot. No such power can be wielded here, save by only the Vortex Lords. As you have no doubt realised."  
"Then how did you find us?"  
"I heard your voices," Guel-därn explained simply. "Soon he too will be sure to do so. At which time, we can await the arrival of a Lord, who can right this wrong."

----

Kurt gripped the column of stone with his hands and feet. For some reason, he could not use his power - there was something in the atmosphere that prevented it. His other abilities, however, were still functioning. As were his heightened senses.  
He spun horizontally, like a spider, so that he peered down at the floor, far below. He could hear voices, and soon four figures came into his sight.  
Instantly the old voice replayed in his mind.  
_All other personnel are incidental. Eliminate them as the need arises_.  
He began to descend.

----

Jean looked around her in bewilderment. The two Kurts, satisfied with Guel-därn's explanation, had stepped away and were discussing the similarities and differences between their lives with palpable interest. Guel-därn stood in the same place, hands behind his back, smiling politely. Jean approached him.  
"So... how long will it be until one of these 'Lords' gets here?" she asked.  
Guel-därn seemed to consider this. "I do not know," he admitted. "But it should not be too long. They frequent this place."  
"And what do you do here?"  
"Such as I am doing now. I ensure that all remains in harmony in the Chamber. It is a duty I have performed since the Vortex first came to be."  
"And how long is that? Jean asked curiously.  
The little man smiled apologetically. "I am afraid that I do not know. I have no means with which to measure the passage of time, here. But it has been long."  
Jean paused for a moment, considering her next question.  
She never asked it.  
A sudden weight dropped from above, crashing into her, wrapping itself around her. Staggering under the weight, she screamed. Then she felt firm hands grasp either side of her head.  
And twist. Hard.

The two Kurts spun at the sound of the scream - just in time to hear a sharp crack, to see Jean slump to the ground, her head twisted unnaturally to one side. A dark shape bounded off the crumpled body, slamming into Guel-därn.  
The little man let out a sudden howl of terror, but too late to do anything - the new arrival swung him like a rag doll against one of the stone pillars. The little man's head exploded in a spray of gore, his scream cut short, and he was dropped as the dark shape stepped into a shaft of sunlight.  
Dressed in striped pants and a light brown jacket. Panting. Slavering. Stained with blood, some of it fresh from Guel-därn's demise, some of it old.  
The third Kurt Wagner.

----

"NOOOOOOO!"  
The scream was ripped from the younger Kurt's throat as he saw his friend fall. The next instant, he hurled himself at his older self, hurtling through the air at a speed that no ordinary human being could ever have achieved from a standing position.  
He collided with the new Kurt, his head impacting on his target's chest, one arm already swinging upwards. It landed with a meaty thump on the murderous Nightcrawler's jaw, sending them both crashing to the floor.  
The killer, however, was only caught off guard for an instant. Every bit as fast as his younger counterpart and far stronger into the bargain, he whipped his tail into the teenager's face and hurled him away to roll to a stop against another pillar. He flipped to his feet just as the priest arrived.

Imagine a pair of identical twins. One is dressed in ill-fitting, loud clothing, torn and stained with blood, his hair dishevelled. The other is immaculate, dressed entirely in close-fitting black aside from the brilliant white collar at his throat.  
Imagine them fighting, trading blow for blow at speed, but never connecting, always blocking one another's attack.  
Such was the short, sharp battle that took place here. The two Kurts, of equal size, strength and speed, seemed to know beforehand what the other would do. Each blow was caught with dazzling speed and returned even faster, so that there seemed to be not four blue hands moving, but eight. But it could not last.  
The killer, tiring of the fruitless action of swinging at the priest, tried a new tactic - a maneuver known in some circles as the 'Lecter Move'. Suddenly holding the priest's hands in place with his own, he lunged forward, fangs bared, biting at his opponent's face. The priest jerked back, gasping ? but unable to escape from the grip on his forearms, and unwilling to return the attack in form. The slashing teeth came within an inch of his face…

And the teenager returned. Leading at his opponent once more, he spun sideways, slamming his heel into the killer's face. He was lucky. And he was unlucky.  
Lucky, because his attack worked. The killer was sent flying backwards, crashing into the same pillar he'd crushed Guel-därn's skull against. But unlucky, because it put his foot in range of the razor-sharp teeth.  
Teen-Kurt howled in sudden agony as deep rends were scored in his heel from the bites. Landing awkwardly, he fell on his side, blood spurting out from his torn Achilles' tendon. The foot itself hung limp, the nerves severed

The priest gasped at his near escape, casting a glance down at the young man who'd saved him, but unable to spare any more effort - for at that moment, the killer got back up.

----

Kurt's vision wavered. He peered at the two enemies standing nearby, at the fallen ones to one side, back at his enemies. For an instant, his vision seemed to clear.  
_They were just like him. Why was he fighting them? Why did he attack the others? Where was he? How could he..._  
He suddenly doubled over, clutching at his temples, crying aloud at a sudden thunderous pain. A voice like rending metal boomed in his head.  
**_Your target is the President of the United States of America! You will find and eliminate the target! All other personnel are incidental! Eliminate them as the need arises!_**  
He straightened. He had lost control once more.  
He advanced.

The priest ducked the first lightning-fast blow. Stepped back to avoid the second. And leaped into the air, over the third, to kick his opponent in the face with desperate strength. The killer staggered back, blood squirting from his nose, then suddenly dove forward, underneath the priest's legs even as he landed. His tail lashed up, whipped around the priest's throat, and brought him down onto the hard tiles. In instant later, a blue-furred fist crashed into the priest's chest with terrible strength.  
Four ribs shattered at that single blow. The shards were driven deep, into the priest's chest, piercing his lungs.  
The priest screamed, a sound that was cut off in a gurgle of blood.  
Then he returned a thunderous blow, striking the killer's windpipe directly. Flattening it.  
And then collapsed. The last effort had been too great; something deep inside him had been torn. Blood pouring from his nose and mouth, Father Kurt Wagner passed out of life and light in the arms of one he could have been, with just a simple twist of fate.  
A minute later, gasping futilely, the killer slumped beside him.  
The teenage Kurt had lost consciousness.

----

"Kurt? Kurt? Can you hear me?"  
A bright white light shone in his eyes. Kurt Wagner flinched as he cracked them open.  
He was lying on his back in the hospital wing of the Institute. One foot was entirely wrapped in white bandages, held in a sling above the bed. Dr. Hank McCoy stood to one side, Scott next to him.  
"My foot..." Kurt managed thickly. A shadow passed over Hank's face.  
"Yes. Your foot. It was... badly damaged, Kurt. Very badly damaged. Do you know what it was?"  
Kurt shook his head. He couldn't tell that story now. It was too hard.  
Scott spoke up. "We arrived back here after the fight. About ten minutes later, there was a flash of light and you just appeared on the Kitchen floor, bleeding like a stuck pig. You've been unconscious for two days."  
"Two... days..?"  
Hank nodded. "We've done all we can for your foot, Kurt. With hard work, there is definitely a possibility that you will one day walk on it again."  
"...Walk... gain..?"  
Hank passed one enormous hand over Kurt's forehead. "Alright. Sleep now. You can talk later."  
Scott suddenly pushed forward. "No, wait! Kurt," he said urgently. "Where is Jean? She vanished when you teleported. She didn't come back with you. Where is she?"  
Kurt said nothing, just stared at his friend.  
"Kurt, _where is she_?"  
He was wondering how, in the name of God, he was to answer that question.


	6. Sam vs Kurt

**Sam vs Kurt (Deathfic, Fighting over Rahne) – Requested by Skiltch**

There was a storm outside. This one had occurred naturally, but Ororo wasn't complaining about it, nor had she opted to stop it. Indeed, nobody at the Institute seemed to mind much. As people often do on such nights, the students had sat for hours under blankets in the Rec room, talking about everything and nothing as they pleased.  
Everyone, that is, except for Kurt. The Elf had been unusually quiet, almost sullen, for the last three days. Although the others had stayed up well past midnight, he'd gone off to bed shortly after nine, early for him under any circumstances. However, since Kurt tended to be as talkative as the average rock when something was bothering him, the reason for his current funk remained a mystery to all. Rahne Sinclair, for one, had no idea what was bothering the Elf.  
Until she opened her bedroom door.

Even in human form, her sense of smell was unusually sharp. As such, the strong musky odour that wafted out of the open door prevailed over her senses instantly. Not a glimmer of light shone inside the room, which in itself was another indication of who was inside. Rahne stopped dead at the doorway.  
"Kurt?" she called into the inky darkness. "What're ye doing in there?"  
Kurt's voice seemed to come from every corner of the room at once, sounding slightly huskier than usual. "After last week, Rahne... you need ask?"  
Rahne's mouth went dry at that not-so-gentle reminder. One week ago, she and Kurt had discovered that they had something in common. That 'something' was an annual hormonal cycle that sent them both into an uncontrollable rut at around the same time. They'd decided, not exactly thinking straight at the time, to resolve their mutual problem, and to forget about it afterwards - which Rahne had indeed been trying to do. She regretted the slip, and had no plans or desire for a repeat performance.  
Unlike Kurt, apparently.  
Rahne shook her head, not walking into the room. "Kurt, last week was last week. I dinnae need tae do... that... again."  
A throaty chuckle came out of the shadows. " Es tut mir leid, Rahne, but... I'm afraid I didn't quite get it all out of my system. And we did agree to help one another."  
She took an unconscious step back into the deserted hallway. "Nae. Nae, Kurt, it was only the one time. I can't help ye. Go and vent on someone else, 'cause I'm not interested."  
Kurt's voice became mocking. "Nein? Are you sure I cannot change your mind?"  
Rahne only nodded, a sense of trepidation rising.  
A sigh from the dark room. 'Ah, but Rahne..." A blue hand shot out of the darkness and grabbed a handful of her shirt.  
He was right there.  
_Right inside the doorway_.  
"...I insist."  
With one yank, Rahne was dragged into the darkness. The door slammed shut behind her.

----

The hallway was otherwise empty as Sam Guthrie headed for his bedroom. Humming softly to himself, he didn't think anything was wrong, exactly, as he passed Rahne's door. Even when he stopped and frowned, he wasn't sure what had bothered him. A moment later it hit him.  
Rahne's door was closed.  
Rahne's door, as a rule, was always open. Even when changing her clothes, she never allowed the latch to close properly, an eccentricity that she herself was unable to explain. The others, finding it odd at first, had eventually stopped caring; but the door remained open. Now, intrigued by this break in form, Sam stepped back to the door, raising one hand to knock.  
Then voices came through, muffled by the wood.  
"...Were not objecting like this last time..."  
"Let me go! Kurt, I said - agh - nae! Getoff, ye damn - Kurt, nae!"  
Sam grabbed the handle. Locked.  
"Nae! Kurt, let me - nae, stop, I ? Kurt!"  
Sam stopped caring about possibilities and acted on instinct. Stepping back, he raised one foot and lashed out. The lock shattered and he practically jumped into the room, hitting the light switch as he did so.

Rahne lay on her back on the floor in the centre of the room, Kurt pinning her down. One of her pigtails had come out, her lower lip was swollen, and her shirt was in tatters, scratches vivid on her bared skin. She was breathing heavily, and her eyes were wide and pleading as her head snapped around toward Sam.  
Kurt glanced over one shoulder, his tail coiling slowly in the air. He wore nothing but a pair of khaki cargo pants, and his long hair as swept back in loose curls. His breathing was even heavier than Rahne's.  
When the door had burst open, he had been lying on top of Rahne, raised up on his elbows. Now he raised himself fluidly, releasing Rahne and standing in one smooth motion. Freed, Rahne scrambled away and huddled in a ball in the corner, as far from Kurt as she could get. He, however, didn't so much as glance at her, having eyes only for Sam. He stood easily, arms at his sides, with a faint smirk on his face. His eyes seemed to burn.  
"Have you never heard of knocking, Sam?" he inquired. "I'm afraid you interrupted. And Herr Professor will be most unhappy when he sees that you have destroyed Rahne's door."  
For a moment, Sam said nothing, taking in the scene. Then Kurt's words sunk in.  
"Me? He's going to be unhappy with _me_? What the Hell?" Sam's utter disbelief was a palpable thing. "How about _you_? Never heard of 'no means no'?"  
Kurt growled softly. "You do not understand what's going on, Sam. Leave."  
Instead, Sam took a step forward. "I understand, buddy. I understand that you're in here - with Rahne - and you're attacking her. And she's not into it. So I'm not leaving until you do."  
A slow, almost dangerous grin came onto Kurt's face. "So?" he asked politely. "If I choose to stay, what then? We shall sit here until the world ends? A fine troop of _dummkopfe _we shall be." He turned his back and began to walk toward Rahne.  
Sam bounded forward immediately and clamped one hand down on Kurt's shoulder, whirling the German mutant around.  
"Don't you fucking _dare_!"  
Kurt's grin got wider, but there was not a trace of humour in it. "Well, now, here we are. And tell me, Farm Boy, what happens now?"  
Sam took a swing at him.  
Kurt caught the blow easily, holding Sam's fist in one three-fingered hand. His left whipped up and gripped Sam's throat tightly.  
The grin became a rictus.  
Kurt called back over his shoulder without his eyes leaving Sam's face. "Be with you in just one moment, Rahne. Don't go away."  
They vanished in an explosion of smoke.  
Rahne covered her face with her hands.

----

Sam felt the momentary disorientation and nausea that always came with being the passenger in a sudden teleport. A moment later, however, the discomfort vanished into the rain.  
And then Kurt threw - literally threw - Sam away as though he were a rag doll.

As he landed, Sam's mind was occupied with several things at once. One was that Kurt was far, far stronger than he looked. Another was that he'd landed in a miniature lake of mud and water, and was now filthy and drenched. A third was to wonder where he was.  
Kurt seemed to know what that last thought was. "Just to give us a little privacy, Farm Boy. Wouldn't want to be interrupted twice in one night, now would I?"  
Water dripped off Sam's nose as he scrambled to his feet. "Kurt, what the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded. "I don't know what's going on, but for Christ's sake, will you snap out of it?"

**BAMF**

A clenched fist thudded into Sam's chest, sending him flying backwards and into the mud once more. Kurt growled, the smoke from the abrupt teleport clearing around him. "That's for blasphemy."  
Wheezing, Sam got up again. "Why?" was all he managed.  
Kurt actually laughed, the rain soaking his hair and fur. "According to Herr McCoy? I have so much testosterone in my system that I'm not thinking straight, and it's made me unusually aggressive." He snorted. "Of course, the good doctor spoke for an hour, and used much longer words, but that was all I could understand. Now then, if we could begin? Rahne is waiting for me, after all..."  
Sam felt his fists clench into big, bony hammers. "Over my dead body," he spat.  
A sudden flash of lightning glinted in silver droplets off Kurt's fur, and his reply was almost lost in the roll of thunder.  
"If you insist."  
A wild light blazed from Kurt's eyes as he advanced thought the teeming rain.

Sam raised one arm defensively as Kurt came on, his other fist cocked at his side. In contrast, Kurt strolled casually, arms at his sides, tail coiling unceasingly in the air behind him, the same maniacal grin on his features.  
"I don't see why you are so angry, Farm Boy," Kurt commented as he came. "She loved every minute of it last time. I nearly went deaf from her squealing..."  
Red fury clouded Sam's mind. Kurt had stepped into arm's reach with that final statement; Sam used it. His right shot up, flinging away drops of rain in a sweeping roundhouse punch. Kurt ducked it easily, swung with his left; Sam caught the blow on his shoulder.  
Then Kurt waded in, laughing insanely as the rain quickened. He swung with both hands at once, a windmill of jabs that forced Sam backwards through the mud. Sam blocked desperately, dodging those he couldn't catch, but it couldn't last. Less than a dozen blows had been fired at him before a sudden sucker punch cracked into his nose, drawing a spurt of blood. Sam stumbled, half slipping in the mud.  
Kurt was on him instantly.  
Sam found himself held up by the now torn collar of his shirt, twin suns staring up into his own eyes. In desperation, he lashed out - a real haymaker, so sudden that Kurt couldn't dodge in time. It landed on his jaw with a solid, meaty **thump**.  
Kurt didn't even flinch.  
"Oh, _shit_," Sam said.  
Then, growling monotonously, water dripping from his nose and chin, Kurt began to hit him again and again and again.

----

Logan stalked down the hall, barking at the students to hurry up and get to bed. It as a quarter to three in the morning, high time that they were asleep - except for Kurt, who had apparently beaten them all. Logan frowned to himself.  
_Better check on the Elf... his troubles always have a way of being a lot bigger than he makes out..._  
Cursing himself for a sentimental fool, he reached Kurt's room at the end of the hall and paused, sniffing. Then his frown deepened. He opened the door.  
The room was empty. And unless he was mistaken, the Elf hadn't been in there for quite some time.

Logan was still working the problem over in his mind a few minutes later as he walked down another corridor, this one given to the New Mutants. It was then that he picked up Kurt's scent again. Only now it was... different... somehow. Like a mixture of a workout and some serious hormonal issues.  
He put the thought aside for a moment when he saw Rahne's door, wide open, streaming light into the hallway.  
_Ya'd think the damn girl was born in a tent_...  
Then he saw the broken lock. Realised that Kurt's scent was even stronger.  
And suddenly got a very, very bad feeling.  
Hurrying, he reached the door, put one hand on either side of the frame, and stuck his head into the room, taking in the mix of smells, his gaze shifting for a few seconds all around the room. Then it settled on the small huddled figure whimpering in the corner.  
The temperature of Logan's blood seemed to be inversely proportional to how wide his eyes were.  
"Oh, Jesus frikkin' Christ..." he breathed.

----

Sam climbed to his feet for the umpteenth time. He had blood oozing from a split lip and a broken nose, one eye was almost swollen shut, and he had a mild concussion.  
Kurt, unmarked save for his ragged appearance, shook his head. "Es gibt genug, Farm Boy. You have wasted enough of my time. I'll give Rahne your regards, ne?"  
Sam spat a mouthful of blood and dirt that was lost in the teeming rain. ?Never thought you'd duck out before the job's done, asshole."  
Kurt raised his eyebrows. "My. You just don't know when to quit, do you?"  
Sam shook his head. "Wrong. If anything, I'm just a little slow to get started."  
For the first time, uncertainty showed in Kurt's face, but only for an instant. Not because he quelled the feeling.  
It was because, at that moment, Sam Guthrie shot off the mark at a pace that would have made Quicksilver green with envy and collided head-on with Kurt.

A wake of mud and water rose in the air behind them as Sam flew, pushing Kurt in front of him. Then he changed angles, aiming straight up, the momentum allowing him to push Kurt some twenty metres up before gravity reclaimed the demented Elf.  
Kurt fell those twenty metres and bounced like a dropped toy. At least four ribs were broken, and now Sam wasn't the only one with a concussion. As Sam rocketed up into the sky for another pass, Kurt regained his feet, his face a mask of fury.  
Looking up, his eyes narrowed to slits as he gauged Sam's current flight path. Then he teleported abruptly in an explosion of sulfur, reappearing in the air above and in front of Sam - and dropping perfectly to grab hold of the flying mutant as he passed. A deep, furious growl issued from Kurt's throat for an instant.  
And then he reared his head back, plunged it down, and brought his fangs together on the back of Sam's neck in one terrible bite.

----

Logan led the way, Scott barely able to keep up with him in the slippery conditions. Having discovered Rahne, Logan had followed the trail of scents in the room and worked out a general idea of the story. Jean, Kitty and Ororo were tending to Rahne; Logan and Scott, guided by the Professor, were trying to find Sam and Kurt.  
"So," Scott panted. "Why the hell... did Kurt try... to rape Rahne?"  
Logan grunted. "Ask Poindexter when we get back. You'll get all the answer ya want, and then some."  
Scott was about to ask something else when they saw, not far ahead, an unnatural object hurtling through the sky at speed.  
Cannonball.  
Heartened by that single glimpse, they hurried on wordlessly.  
They hadn't gone ten metres before a scream of pure agony tore through the sheets of rain, cut off in a pained gurgle.  
The flying figure dropped like a stone.

----

Sam stood over the small depression he'd made in the mud when he landed, looking down at where Kurt writhed in pain in the mud. Sam's ears were still ringing from that awful scream.  
"You moron," Sam spat without much pity. "I can fly through a goddamn steel wall, and you try to bite me?"  
Four of Kurt's teeth had shattered instantly at the attempt; his jawbone had cracked; and when he slipped off, he'd bit savagely into his own gums, shredding his tongue. Blood poured from his mouth as strangled groans slipped out through the torn lips.  
Suddenly Kurt seemed to see him. His eyes flared.  
_Flared_.  
Bounding to his feet, he reared back, swung one fist at Sam's head - and was sent flying as a blast of crimson energy shot through the falling rain and struck him in the side.

Sam sagged visibly - and painfully - with relief as Logan and Scott arrived, stumbling through the thick mud.  
"Kurt..." he gasped helplessly. "The bastard went nuts... he tried... Rahne..."  
Logan cut him off. "Yeah. We know. Saw what you left in her bedroom, put two and two together. Looks like we only just got here in time."  
Sam snorted. "You got here late." He swallowed. "Crazy fucker keeps getting back up, wants to kill me or something. I don't know. Look, if you can calm him down, that'd be just-"  
Kurt lunged out from the night, dripping with water, blood and grime, ruined mouth bared for one last bite in Sam's throat, too soon for him to get out of the way.

**SNIKT**

Logan whirled, not even aiming his claws, just putting them in between Kurt and Sam. He succeeded. And he failed. The middle claw of his left hand penetrated Kurt's right eye, the others gouging bloody holes in his head.  
The force of Kurt's lunge kept him coming, even though he was dead instantly. His face struck Logan's fist heavily before his own weight pulled him down, the claws carving three vertical lines through his head and exiting through the top of his skull. Blood gushed out, staining the muddy ground.  
The other three stood and stared in mute horror as the rain continued to fall endlessly from the dark sky.


	7. Amara vs Nature

**Amara vs Nature (Porcupine, Skunk) – Requested by Neemers**

Amara glanced at her watch as she leaned with her back against a tree. _Ninety minutes... now..._  
She smiled. The current training exercise for the New Mutants was to evade capture in the woods surrounding the Institute; the older students had the task of rounding them all back up again. They'd been paired off, one on one - or, for Scott and Kurt, one on two - with the instruction that each New Mutant could only be 'caught' by their partner. Scott had been given Bobby and Ray, while Kurt was chasing Rahne and Sam; the others were all one-on-one. Evan was after Roberto, Jean had Jubilee and Rogue was hunting Jamie. Amara, for her part, had now evaded Kitty for an hour and a half. Thirty minutes more, and the exercise was over.  
There was, of course, one more restriction placed on all participants. This was the inhibitor they all wore around their necks. Logan's instructions had been simple enough; hunt or evade your partner without the use of powers. Should a 'hunter' bring in their target, the hunter's inhibitor would be removed. Conversely, a 'target' had to evade capture for two hours to have their inhibitor taken off.  
Logan hadn't yet told them what he had planned for those who didn't earn their powers back. Nobody assumed it was going to be pleasant.  
And so, the competition had been rather fierce.

----

Pushing herself upright, the Nova Roma Royal glanced around herself as she moved on. There were no sounds of pursuit; in spite of all the smug looks Kitty had shot at Amara when the excercise began, there'd been no sign of the Valley Girl anywhere near Amara since.  
Indeed, Amara was actually enjoying the walk. Not so much, perhaps, as she would have enjoyed a comfortable divan and a good book, but it was nonetheless pleasant. Sun in the leaves, fresh air, birds singing...  
A sudden chittering in a nearby tree stopped her. Looking up, she caught sight of a family of squirrels peering down at her. Amara squealed with delight before holding out one hand and cooing enticingly; instantly, one of the larger squirrels bounded down and perched on her wrist.  
It occurred to her that this must have been one of the animals Kurt had tamed, thus making it so friendly. Still cooing to it softly, she stroked its back with one finger while it sniffed at her other hand, attracted by the hazelnut perfume she wore.  
Then it bit her on the thumb.  
Amara let out a short scream and swatted at the offending rodent, sending it flying away with a squeak of protest. Sucking at the injured digit, she glared darkly at the other squirrels, still sitting on their branch, before stalking off.  
_...Should have know better than to trust an animal trained by the filthy peasant..._ she thought.

Walking through the trees, no longer enjoying the beauty of the forest, it wasn't long before she came into a small clearing. Stepping into it, she glared suspiciously around for any signs of wildlife; instantly her gaze fell on a small cat-like creature with a pelt reminiscent of Rogue's hair. It didn't look particularly dangerous. Amara, however, had passed beyond the point of tolerance for small woodland creatures. Growling an oath in Latin, she threw a rock at it.  
The creature stumbled from the impact and squealed as it turned to look at the irate girl. Then it scampered toward her, its large tail rising as it came. Amara had time to glower at it before it reached her feet and came to a stop.  
And then, unexpectedly, Amara received a faceful of foul-smelling musk.  
With a howl of protest, she lashed out, catching it with one foot and knocking it some two feet away from her. Stepping forward, she aimed another furious kick; the creature dodged and Amara over-balanced, falling on her backside in the dirt. Then she screamed.  
When she'd slipped, she'd put out her hands to save herself and absorb the impact on the ground. This, however, had resulted on her hand striking something hard, spiny and painful. A quick glance revealed what it was; a small animal with a long snout, covered in spikes. This she recognized as a porcupine. Then she frowned.  
_Why is that here? It was in biology... they never stop in an open place unless..._  
She became aware of the crawling sensation on her skin at the same time as she realised where she was; sitting in the middle of a now-demolished ant nest, the occupants of which were now all over her.  
The porcupine, irritated at having had its meal disturbed, lumbered forward and butted Amara on the thigh, by coincidence jabbing her with a few spines. With a squeak, Amara shot to her feet - just as the black-and-white creature, who she'd named 'Stinker' jumped at her. It managed a few shallow scratches before she hurled it off and staggered back.

This action brought her under a large hanging tree. A moment later, something small struck the back of her head, a similar weight landing on her shoulder. Turning her head sharply, she saw it - the satanic little rodent that had bitten her, starting all this.  
It bit her again. She grabbed it and threw it away from her.  
Then its smaller friend, perched on her head, moved - and got tangled in her long hair. It immediately began struggling, scratching and biting, trying to get free.  
Amara screamed again, swatting frantically at the miniature pest. Finally grabbing it, she removed the squirrel - and a sizeable hunk of hair - and dropped it on the ground.  
Further chittering from above caught her attention; looking up, she saw another quartet of squirrels staring down at her. Hair dishevelled, clothes torn, covered with grime and ants and stinking musk, Amara lost her temper completely.  
Screaming insults, she scooped up a handful of rocks and hurled them into the tree. She missed the squirrels; however, she hit two other things. One was the branch above them, enough to knock down a magpie nest. The other was an owl.  
When three infuriated birds swooped down at her an instant later, Amara finally gave up. She ran.

A minute or so after this, a young deer walked into the now-empty clearing; from other sides, a few other animals approached. Sniffing the ground, the deer walked about the clearing for a moment, picking up the unusual scents; then, curiosity having got the better of it, it trotted off, following the scent trail. Slowly, other animals followed it.

----

Jamie, heading down the path through the woods, paused as he heard something unusual approaching up ahead. Taking an uncertain step back, he eyed the path in front of him with trepidation.  
Abruptly, the foliage to his left parted, and a wildly shrieking Amara dashed out directly in front of him, hands raised to protect herself from a pair of swooping magpies. A moment later, a veritable swarm of woodland creatures burst out behind her; squirrels, raccoons, rabbits, a skunk, a deer, an owl, and a porcupine, gamboling along gamely, bringing up the rear. All following Amara.  
Not one creature, nor Amara herself, paid Jamie the least attention. In seconds, the bizarre procession had crossed the path and vanished into the woods again, Amara's screams only fading with distance.  
Jamie stood stunned for a few moments before bolting back towards the Institute.

----

"Mister Logan! Mister Logan!"  
Logan unlocked Scott's inhibitor and glanced up at the sound of Jamie's voice.  
"MIIIIIIIISTERR LOOOOOOGAAAAAAANNNN!"  
Racing around the side of the building, Jamie caught sight of Logan and skidded to a halt in front of him, panting. Logan held up one hand.  
"Alright, alright. What is it?"  
"Amara... woods... chased..."  
Logan frowned. "Somethin' happened to the firebug?"  
Jamie finally caught his breath. "The animals in the woods went crazy, they're chasing Amara! I think they're gonna kill her and she was running around screaming so I ran here to find you and I don't know what to do!"  
Dead silence greeted this revelation.  
Then Logan guffawed. "This, I gotta see."  
Striding off, Logan followed Jamie's scent back the way he'd come; a moment later, the assembled students followed.

----

Amara had a stitch. There were twigs and leaves and substances she didn't care to name all over her, in her hair and clothes and on her face. She was scratched from branches and thorns. And there was still a large group of creatures following her.  
A certain amount of fear had clouded her mind by this point ? right now it seemed entirely possible that the majority of herbivores in the forest were quite willing to tear her to shreds, as they'd apparently been trying to do. Amara, panicked, wasn't looking where she was going other than to dodge trees.  
And so she didn't see the stagnant pool of water.  
SPLASH  
Surfacing in the shallow puddle, she looked up. Roughly twenty small creatures peered curiously back at her.  
Amara huddled into a ball, covered her head, wailed dismally, and closed her eyes as slime dripped off her into the filthy water.

"Hey!"

The animals looked over as Logan stepped into view. He held up one hand.

**SNIKT**

The animals bolted.

Cautiously, the Nova Roman looked up. The demonic little creatures were gone. In their place, the residents of the institute ? save for three or four of them ? looked back at her.  
They exploded into laughter.  
Amara simply glared at them and stood, marching up to Logan.  
"Key," she grated. Logan grinned and handed it over. She unlocked the collar, dropped it on the ground, and stormed off with as much dignity as she could muster.

----

Kitty sighed to herself. The time was nearly up, and she hadn't even caught sight of Amara yet.  
_Oy, this is going to be great... probably the only one that didn't find my target..._

She paused and looked up at a sudden chittering sound. Sitting in a nearby tree was a family of squirrels, peering down at her.  
Kitty held out both hands to them. "Hey, baby," she called. "Hello..."  
When a large squirrel leaped down and perched on her shoulder, Kitty squealed with delight and scratched it gently on the head. It didn't seem to notice.  
It was too busy sniffing at her ear - that smelled just like the berry scented perfume she wore.


	8. Jean vs Emma

**Jean vs Emma (No restrictions) – Requested by Meredith**

Scott led the way down the darkened corridor, barely visible in the dim light. Jean and Kitty followed close behind, checking for sounds of pursuit.  
"Do you think the others are okay?" Kitty asked quietly. Scott nodded.  
"Kurt and Logan were the only other two that got cut off - those two shouldn't have much trouble with anything. The rest are still at the Blackbird, so they'll be fine."  
"Us, on the other hand..." muttered Jean.

----

Four hours ago, Professor Xavier had detected a new mutant signature in a large office building in the west of San Francisco.  
He'd also detected several _known _mutant signatures converging on it.  
Not liking the look of things, he'd sent the team to investigate, even boarding the jet himself to ?keep an eye on things, as he put it. However, on the way, he'd briefed them on what to expect, and suddenly everyone had worked out why the Professor had really come.  
It was because he thought he'd be needed.

The group of known mutant signatures he'd detected had turned out to belong to the Hellions, a notorious group known for a combination of military precision and utter ruthlessness. Their methods of recruiting were also questionable; they were known to literally hunt down targets and capture them. From there, their methods became less like 'recruiting' and more like 'brainwashing'.  
As such, the Professor had decided that it was their responsibility to help this new mutant before he or she was captured. Despite the fact that it was nearly midnight, they'd set out as soon as everyone was ready.

And, with the best of intentions, the entire team had walked blindly into a trap.

----

The building was 23 stories high; the Professor had found the signal coming from the 16th floor. After landing on the roof, they'd split up - five heading down the fire escape, the rest entering from the main door in the rooftop.  
The smaller group - Scott, Jean, Kitty, Ororo and Kurt - had reached the 16th floor first, and had searched it thoroughly. They'd soon found what they were looking for.  
Not a mutant. Rather, a small device which emitted a sophisticated radio signal capable of fooling Cerebro's system. One that imitated a mutant signature.  
They'd had time to realise the implications of that moments before they were attacked.

The affray had been sharp but brief. Shut into a small office, they'd had no easy avenue of escape and were forced to fight off the ambush. After a few short minutes, they'd gained a temporary respite, and used it. Kurt had teleported with Ororo to the 17th level, while Kitty had phased Scott and Jean down to the 15th. The former duo had set off to find the main group and get help.  
The latter three, however, were now stranded - with a large group of enemies between them and escape - and attempting to get back to the roof.

----

Rounding the corner, Scott spotted the elevators up ahead and sighed with relief.  
"There's our ride," he called, running up and hitting the call button. The girls came up behind and stopped with him.  
Kitty frowned. "Um, are you sure that it's, like, safe to use these things right now?" she asked.  
"Safer than staying here."  
"Okay, point."  
Jean eyed the display of lights above the door with uncertainty. "I'm not so sure..." she said slowly. "It looks like this thing's coming from the sixtee-"

**DING**

Too late.

Kitty was actually jolted backwards by the impact of the telepathic blow, her jaw snapping shut with an audible _click _of the teeth. She caught no more than a glimpse of the tall blonde woman inside before she slumped flat on her back, unconscious.  
Jean and Scott had an instant longer; Jean used it to get them more time. Scything one hand sideways, she sent out a solid wave of telekinetic force that knocked the woman - and the other two occupants of the elevator - to the floor. A second pulse from Jean began to force the doors shut.  
An instant before the doors closed fully, the blonde woman moved, diving forward through the narrowing gap and rolling to one side. Scott fired a blast of energy; though he missed, the bolt literally welded the door shut, sealing off any further attack. He, however, never registered that. Even before the woman rose again, she focused her attention on Scott and the captain of the X-Men fell facedown without a sound.  
In the dim light of the hallway, the blond lady stood and faced Jean.  
"Looks like we're all alone, girl," commented Emma Frost.  
Jean stiffened. "What do you think you're doing?" she asked.  
Emma smiled wickedly. "Well, isn't it obvious? I felt that we could use some people like you on our side. So now we're collecting you."  
"_Collecting_?"  
"We don't take 'no' for an answer. And since that's the answer you would have given, we didn't ask." Emma's eyes narrowed. "And now it's time to say goodbye."

Jean staggered slightly at the abrupt assault on her mind; she'd never felt anything so brutal before. Even training exercises with Professor Xavier hadn't been this hard. It was like her brain was under siege. Gritting her teeth, she pushed back as hard as she could, straining with all her strength to fight off the attack, focusing, struggling...  
The pressure lifted.  
"You're telepathic..." Emma said softly. "Well, well. Charles got himself an apprentice. You will be valuable."  
Jean shook the traces of fog from her mind. "Like hell I will."  
Emma grunted as she was thrown backwards into the wall by an invisible hand, hard enough to crack the plaster. An instant later, she dropped to the floor; a bud vase on a nearby table suddenly lifted and swooped toward her. She raised one hand defensively and the vase shattered on her forearm. A shard of porcelain opened a shallow cut on her wrist.  
She glared at Jean with sudden fury. "You'll pay for that."  
Jean swung one hand; Emma was hurled back down the dark corridor, rolling to a stop near a large window.  
"Add it to my tab," Jean smirked.  
Emma staggered to her feet. "No tabs here, girl" she growled. "It's cash on the nail or nothing."  
And Jean suddenly jerked back as a psychic pile-driver smashed into her brain.

----

Kitty stirred slowly as the weight on her mind lifted, her eyes fluttering open. The first thing she saw was Jean staggering backwards, hands pressed to her temples, eyes squeezed shut with concentration. The second was Scott, facedown on the carpet next to her.  
As the disorientation quickly lifted, Kitty realised what was happening; she blanched. Then she did the only thing she could do.  
Lifting one hand slightly, she moved it the necessary four inches to touch Scott on the shoulder. A moment later, they both began to pass through the floor to the next level of the building.  
_Professor? Help..._

----

Emma's gift was telepathy, not telekinesis. When attacking a living thing, however, there was very little difference between the two. A telepathic push could fool even the most powerful mind into thinking that it had received a physical blow. Bruises would form, capillaries would break. The blows did not exist, but their minds made it real 1.  
Jean lashed out with all her might, breaking Emma's contact with her. Already she had several bruises forming; she'd also bitten her lip, a trickle of blood now coming from the corner of her mouth. Then she swung her right hand in an uppercut motion, as though shadow-boxing. Of course, she wasn't.

Emma flew up toward the roof as though yanked up by a rope, connecting with the plasterboard surface with a _thud_. She let out a pained gasp at the impact; but she didn't stay there long. As Jean brought her hand back down, Emma followed it, hurled onto the floor.  
Then back up.  
Then back down.  
Then back up.  
For just an instant, Jean slowed down then; Emma fixed her slightly bleary eyes on the redhead and concentrated. Jean let out a cry and grabbed her head with both hands, teeth gritting in pain; Emma fell to the floor again. This time, however, she got back up on her own. Striding forward, she gripped Jean by the scruff of her neck and hurled the younger girl down the corridor, back toward the window.  
Jean landed on her knees and skidded forward, sprawling on her face. Turning her head, she managed one jolt of energy through the pressure Emma was exerting on her; the blonde telepath's feet jerked out from under her and she fell on her backside in the hall. Her concentration broke.

Freed from the continued assault, Jean exerted all her strength. The table which had held the bud vase a few moments ago suddenly flipped into the air and flew straight at Emma, bashing into her and knocking her flat. A second later, Emma herself left the floor, turning in mid-air to crash into the sealed door of the elevator, pinned upside-down by the awesome force Jean was exerting on her  
Then something completely unexpected happened.  
A red beam shot over Jean's shoulder as the window behind her shattered into fragments, crashing into Emma Frost and causing her to scream at the sudden pain. Jean released her and she fell to the floor.

----

Hearing Kitty's call, the Professor had acted quickly. The rest of the team had returned to the roof and boarded the plane; it had lifted off and then eased down slowly in a vertical landing in the street next to the building. Some five minutes later, Kitty and Scott had walked out through the wall, having phased through fourteen stories to the ground level.  
Kurt and Ororo had arrived a moment later, appearing inside the jet in an explosion of sulfur, and they'd lifted off, rising to the 16th level.  
Just high enough for Scott to look in the window.

An explosion of smoke appeared in front of Jean, startling her slightly.  
"The Professor thinks it was a mistake to come here - or had you noticed?" Kurt said by way of greeting.  
"Yeah, I'd spotted that one," Jean agreed, stepping forward. Kurt took her hand.  
"Well, if you've had enough fun..."  
They vanished.

As the jet lifted again outside the building, Jean slumped in a window seat, wincing from the pain of her injuries. She glanced out the window.  
Emma Frost stood unmoving in the broken window of the 16th floor, staring directly at her, arms at her sides.  
_Impressive work, Miss Grey_, came a voice in Jean's mind. _I'm looking forward to seeing you again sometime soon. And then, you won't get off so lightly..._

With that, the window dropped out of Jean's range of vision, and the Blackbird shot off into the night sky.


	9. Scott, Kitty, Ray, Jamie, Kurt vs FOH

**Scott / Kurt / Ray / Kitty / Jamie vs FOH Thugs (Deathfic, Restaurant) – Requested by Taekwondodo**

The red convertible pulled to an easy halt outside the small diner. Kurt had jumped out before Scott killed the engine; the others followed more sedately.  
"Shit, Fuzzball, calm down, willya?" grunted Ray.  
"Leave him alone," Scott scolded. "He hasn't eaten in almost twelve minutes…"  
The Elf stuck his tongue out at Scott. "Hey, do you hear me mocking the shades?" he retorted. "I'm hungry, man. Fast metabolism. What do you want me to do, starve?"  
"Not much risk of that…"  
Kurt bounded over and slung an arm over Scott's shoulders. "Need I remind you, mein freund, that I'm only here because you begged me?" he asked in a low voice. "And I can quite easily abandon you, and go with Jamie and Ray instead. Then you can have Kitty all to yourself until Jean arrives…"  
Scott shuddered theatrically. "Okay, man. I take it back."

"Eeeeeeeeeewww!"

"She's started again," Jamie commented to Ray.  
"Jesus fucking Christ," Ray grumbled under his breath. "A forty-minute car ride, and she's been talking for more than thirty. No fucking wonder Scooter doesn't want to be alone with her 'til Jean shows."  
Kitty, completely oblivious to the comments being made about her, glared at the sign of _Stan's Fried Chicken Diner _the way a priest might look at a burning cross. "Like, what are we even doing here?" she demanded. "This place, like, kills innocent animals, then dips them in fat, and calls it food! No way am I eating here!"  
"Should've seen this coming," Scott murmured.  
"It's okay," Jamie whispered. "She's probably not eating again today."  
Kitty turned and blinked. "Huh? Like, why are you whispering?"  
Jamie froze. "It's… um… a game…?"  
"What were you saying?"

"Um… that we should… look at the menu, anyway."  
Kitty sighed. "No, it's no problem," she said. "I was, like, going to fast today, anyway." With that, she turned and trudged away from the car.  
Ray glanced at Jamie. "Good prediction and nice save," he hissed. Jamie grinned and ducked his head.  
Scott locked the car, and the four males headed after Kitty toward the diner.

----

It was Saturday. Jean was currently at cheerleading practice, and had talked Scott into picking her up afterwards - something that Scott would normally have been more than willing to do, but wasn't too enthusiastic about this time. This was largely because Kitty and Jean had planned a shopping trip, which Scott was expected to go on. Jean had eventually wheedled him into it; he, in turn, had appealed to Kurt to come along and keep him company.  
Ray and Jamie had no such plans. The latter had found out about a car rally in town that afternoon; the former, when asked, had agreed to take him. They'd caught a ride with the others, but would soon go their own way.

Right now, however, it was lunch time.

----

"Hi, my name is Chris," said the thin, acne-covered lad behind the counter. He wasn't lying; his name really was Chris, and he had a badge to prove it. "May I take your order?"  
Kitty thumped both hands down on the counter. "How do you live with yourself, animal-killer?" she spat.  
Hi-my-name-is-Chris paled and took a step back. When Kitty's glare didn't flicker, he glanced over one shoulder. "Stan?" he called in a wavering voice. "Stan? Stan!"  
Kitty suddenly felt herself yanked back by a hand on her shoulder.  
"If you're not eating," Kurt hissed, "save the complaints until later, okay?"  
Kitty scowled indignantly, but the others just looked back over the counter where the till worker was having a rather panicked, muted conversation with over 300 pounds of sweaty flab and receding hairline - Stan himself.  
A moment later, Stan waddled off with a suspicious glare at the teenagers; Hi-my-name-is-Chris crept forward nervously and pointed at the entrance with a trembling hand.  
"We… uh… have fliers at the door, and… uh… I…" he swallowed. "Can I take your order...?"  
Scott looked at Kitty. "Don't say anything," he warned. Ray just muttered something about a _pack of (expletive) morons _and stepped up to get his lunch.

----

A short while later, they sat in a booth on one side of the diner, their meals in front of them - all except Kitty, who was engrossed in the pamphlet she'd been directed to. Scott shook his head at her.  
"Kitty, is it that big a deal?"  
She shrugged. "Hey, I've got the right to an opinion," she answered. "There's a phone number here. I'll call someone and get details from them."  
As a trio of cars pulled up outside, Kurt finished one of his burgers and looked up at Ray. "So what's appearing at this rally?" he asked, a hint of envy in his voice.  
Ray swallowed some fried and grinned. "A few monster trucks, for starters. Then there's some rally cars doing a timed obstacle course, some races, professional stunt drivers, classic car displays, and the final show's a crash-up-derby. Fuckin' ace, huh?"  
Kurt glared at Scott. "I'm missing that. Because I let you talk me into going shopping with the poster child for 'the injustice that is fast food'." He picked up another burger, bit into it, and spoke around it. "You owe me, man. Big."

As a large crowd - about a dozen people - walked into the diner, Kitty put down her pamphlet. A moment later she leaned across the table to Jamie.  
"_Mmrph prphle mph phrrr_."  
Jamie blinked. "Huh?"  
Kitty cocked her head. "Aren't you still playing the whispering game?"  
"Whispering…? What are you… oh. Oh! Right. Um…" he blinked again. "No, it… It's over now."  
Kitty pouted. "Oh."  
"What did you say?" Scott asked.  
"I like your hair," she repeated normally. Jamie's hair was held in place with hair wax, sticking up in a style similar to (and perhaps in imitation of) Ray's. Ray grinned, reached over, and swatted the younger boy lightly on the shoulder.  
"Suits ya," he commented.  
Kurt snorted. "Careful, Ray. You're almost being nice."  
"Shit," Ray sighed. "Can't have that. Remind me to be an asshole later and I can make up for it."  
"I like it," Jamie said defensively. Scott laughed.  
"Yeah, it does look okay. Just be careful you don't end up exactly like Ray, okay?"  
"Oh, so it'd be better if he would up like you, Mister fucking Military?"  
Kurt chuckled and rose, going to get a refill of his soda.

----

"One ninety-five, sir."  
Kurt passed over his money. Hi-my-name-is-Chris placed it in the till and gave Kurt a paper cup filled with cola, still looking like he expected the German teen to start shouting about animal rights in the fast food industry. No such thing, of course, actually happened; Kurt simply nodded, grabbed his drink, and walked away.  
And collided instantly with the back of another customer, one of the large group who'd recently arrived. Kurt stumbled back, tripped over his own feet, and fell. The hand holding his drink shot up and the cup sailed into the air out of his grasp.  
Time seemed to slow down.  
He was aware of everything at once. He felt himself falling as a gasp slipped from his throat and the words _watch where you're going, pal _reached him. He saw the guy he'd walked into turning, a strange tattoo on his wrist, as the paper cup reached its zenith and turned in the air.  
As he landed flat on his rear, the man he'd hit turned to face him - and the tattoo on his wrist came into clear focus. Kurt froze, staring at it, as the cup came down, striking the German boy on the shoulder.  
Cola spilled all over his watch. It fizzed, flickered, faded and died.

Time resumed its normal speed. Kurt Wagner sat sprawled on the floor in all his demonic blue glory, dripping soda, unmoving. Staring at the wrist of the man in front of him.  
Staring at the tattoo which displayed the letters 'F', 'O' and 'H' in bold, blue ink.  
And then the shouting started.

Kurt's paralysis wore off a second before the others' did. Pushing his hands down, he rolled backwards and came to his feet - narrowly avoiding a kick that would have broken his jaw, had he remained sitting. Looking up, he found his eyes level with those of the man he'd bumped into a second ago.  
"You're a fucking mutie," he spat.  
_Ja, tell me something I don't know_, Kurt thought. Taking a step back, he found himself pressed against the counter, the group still advancing on him. He prepared to teleport to safety?  
"Hey!"  
Kurt cursed inwardly as his friends suddenly pushed through the press toward him. Teleporting himself out of danger was one thing; ducking out on his friends was another. If push came to shove, he'd be needed, and so he couldn't leave until he was sure everything would be-  
Disaster struck.  
As Scott pushed past another angry-looking gang member, the guy pushed back. Scott stumbled and knocked into Jamie.  
Two Jamies appeared behind the original.  
Scott's glasses slipped, just enough to let a tiny burst of energy out. It burned a hole in the counter.  
And after an intake of breath and a collective moment of shocked silence, everyone started moving at once.

----

Scott suddenly found himself grabbed from behind and whirled around an instant after he'd adjusted his shades. The one who'd grabbed him, however, had seriously underestimated Scott. The tall young man brought up one hand to catch the blow, knowing it was coming long before he actually saw it; it thudded harmlessly into his raised forearm and he caught the extended wrist with one hand.  
"Look,' he began. "There's no need to-"  
A vicious blow from behind found his kidneys and he staggered forward; a third thug brought an elbow down on the back of his neck. Scott doubled over as the first one swung a knee toward his face. The blow never struck.  
Scott grabbed the man's leg inches from his face, with one hand; the other hand came up into the man's stomach and knocked the wind out of him. A quick twist of the knee sent him to the floor in a gasping heap and Scott straightened, lashing out with a backhand punch as he rose and spun. The guy behind him staggered back to the counter, blood spurting from a broken nose.  
"On second thoughts," Scott announced, "maybe there is a need to get violent."

Kurt, of course, already saw the need for violence. The instant after the group had recovered from their shock at seeing Scott and Jamie, Kurt was moving.  
Planting both hands on the counter behind him, he flipped backwards, bringing his feet up over his head. One lashed out at the nearest thug, the one Kurt had walked into; he was knocked back into the arms of his companions as a split-second later Kurt landed upright, the counter between him and his attackers.  
He became aware of the terrified till worker cowering away; a quick growl sent him scrambling to the corner, as far from Kurt as he could get without vaulting the counter - something he wasn't likely to do, considering the bedlam just over that tiny barrier. But Kurt had no time to worry about him, because then two attackers jumped the counter and came for him.

Kitty was, at first, left alone - she hadn't done anything mutant-ish yet, and besides that she simply didn't look too threatening; small and neat-looking in makeup and a pink sweater, she couldn't have looked more out of place in a vicious brawl.  
After a moment, however, one of the younger gang members noticed the petite-looking valley girl and realised she was with the other, obvious mutants.  
"Mutie…?" he half asked, uncertainty visible on his face. Kitty glowered at him and kicked him in the crotch. The man let out a bizarre squeaking sound and assumed the foetal position on the floor.  
"Yep," Kitty agreed. "And I'm Jewish, too. Betcha hate me now, huh?"  
When another two moved in toward her, it seemed the answer was 'yes'.

The gang members hadn't been quite sure how to deal with Jamie. He was obviously a mutant; the fact that two of him had appeared out of nowhere was a testament to that. He was also, however, extremely small and non-threatening; he really appeared to be more endangered than dangerous. Besides, when a light shove had caused two clones to appear, they were a little apprehensive as to what would happen if they attacked him.  
One thug experimentally thumped a multiple in the back; suddenly, there were six Jamies looking around in confusion. But only for a moment.  
An enormous man with a fully shaved head suddenly grabbed the original Jamie, whom he'd been watching, and lifted him one-handed off the ground.  
"Benny, don't hit him!" one guy said quickly. "It just makes more of 'em!"  
The massive 'Benny' glowered at his captive. "You made all dem copies," he growled, a thick southern accent in his voice. "Now you gon' get rid 'o all dem copies right now."  
Jamie gulped and nodded awkwardly. A moment later, the other five multiples blinked out of existence. Benny grinned, displaying foul yellow teeth, and hurled Jamie over the counter and into the kitchen behind it.  
"I ain't hit 'im," Benny drawled. "Yet."  
Then he lumbered over to the door marked 'Kitchen' and passed through it, going after Jamie.

Ray, for himself, hadn't wasted any time. When Kurt had been revealed, he'd been the first one to rise; he'd run over and grabbed the first FOH gang member that had come within reach.  
"The fuck you doing?" he demanded.  
"The fuck you care?" the guy growled back.  
"You're pushing my pal around, that's what I fucking care!"  
"He's a fuckin' mutie!"  
"You got a fucking problem with that, buddy?"  
"The fuck you think?"  
"Fuck you!"  
Having finished with the formal pleasantries, they engaged. Ray headbutted the guy viciously in the face and punched him in the throat; as he staggered back, Ray rammed an elbow into the stomach of the man next to him, punched a third in the chest, and waded further into the press.

----

Hi-my-name-is-Chris cowered in the corner, scarce feet away from violently struggling figures on every side, sweat pouring down his face, eyes rolling in terror.  
Then he saw the phone hanging on the wall next to him.  
He snatched it up and sank to the floor in a defensive huddle; he dialled, and when it was answered, began whispering frantically into it.

----

Scott pushed one of his attackers back and dropped him with a swift kick to the stomach, stepping away to view the situation. They were outnumbered, that was plain; but besides that, they weren?t looking for a fight. Rather, they wanted to prevent this one from getting out of hand.  
"People!" he called, still eyeing his adversaries warily. "We aren't in this for fun - guys, just get out of here as soon as you can!"  
"Fuck you, mutie," a voice hissed nearby. Turning his head, Scott saw that one of the gang members had suddenly pulled out a knife. And that others were reaching for weapons of their own.  
_Oh, shit…_

Kurt saw the knives come out from where he was standing; indeed, he was looking straight at one when they appeared. An instant later, the man holding it lunged at him.  
_Rule one: no powers outside the Institute…_ Kurt thought. _Okay, fine…_  
He bounded straight upwards, the glittering blade missing him by scant inches. The wielder, however, could do nothing but gape up as Kurt raced up the wall to the roof, where he perched, peering down at his assailant.  
"Get down here," the guy said uselessly. Kurt narrowed his eyes.  
"Be careful what you wish for…"  
The Elf shot down from the ceiling like an arrow, ricocheting off the counter and slamming into the FOH thug behind the one who'd spoken to him. The man crashed into the wall with a grunt; a savage blow to the head sent him to the floor, unconscious. When Kurt rose again, he was holding a knife, pilfered off the fallen gang member.  
"…it may one day come true."  
He leaped forward, the knife flicking out, catching his opponent's blade. One foot swung up and connected solidly with the man's head; even as he fell, Kurt was turning away to look over the counter.  
"Next," he called. Receiving no immediate answer, he bounded over toward Ray.

Two thugs had grabbed Ray's arms when a heavy blow had momentarily stunned him; now one held him steady as his partner raised a small knife.  
And dropped it an instant later as a hurtling blade stabbed through his hand; a second after that, Kurt's second knife sunk into the shoulder of the man holding Ray. A savage kick backwards from the spiky-haired teen allowed him to break free. He looked up as Kurt raced over.  
"Good timing."  
Kurt shook his head. "We are not out yet. And I think that Jamie could use some help?"  
Ray's head snapped around, looking for the younger boy. Kurt just pointed.  
"Kitchen."

Benny stalked down the narrow space between the benches toward Jamie. As he came, he reached up and snatched a meat cleaver off one wall.  
"You in a whole lotta trouble now, kid," he growled. In desperation, Jamie looked around. The cramped area meant that multiples would be more of a disadvantage than an advantage, and besides that he could only hope to slow Benny down. But first he needed some way to do that…  
He saw it.  
Benny laughed as he saw his diminutive target snatch something off a nearby bench. "What you gon' do wit' dat, kid? It ain' gon' help you."  
"Wrong," said Jamie, and threw it at him.  
Benny's head snapped back as the small bottle shattered against his forehead; an instant later he bellowed in agony as the Tabasco sauce ran into his eyes. Unable to see, he lashed out blindly, bouncing off the walls as he advanced.  
"You damn lil' sonovabitch!" he roared. "You done blinded me! I'm a gon' kill you! Where you at, kid? Where the fuck you at?"  
Jamie ran forwards, diving low, hoping to get under Benny's feet.  
He didn't make it.  
A raised foot struck him on the shoulder by chance; Benny swiped low and sent Jamie flying backwards to form another five multiples against a wall. Jamie looked up as the enormous man loomed over him, furious bloodshot eyes fixed on him.  
"Now you gon' be a dead lil' fucker of a mutie," Benny snarled. He raised the cleaver.  
And screamed.  
Blue energy arced off him as Ray poured all his strength into Benny's huge form. Smoke rose; a moment later, blood bubbling out of his mouth, Benny collapsed on the floor, twitching. Ray stepped up toward Jamie.  
"Let's get the fuck outa here."  
And then they heard the gunfire.

It was aimed at Kitty. She'd dropped a second thug without much difficulty, phasing through his wild swings with less respect for the Institute rules than Kurt had showed. Tiring of this, her remaining attacker had pulled out a gun.  
He had no more success than before; Kitty phased and the bullets passed harmlessly through her. The consequences, however, were grimmer. A scream, ending in a gargle of blood, came from over behind the counter. Everyone stopped dead to look.  
Hi-my-name-is-Chris toppled to the ground, a bloody mess where his face had once been.  
And then a door inside the kitchen exploded open.

----

Stan had been in his office when the trouble began; Chris, at the cash register, had used the phone's intercom system to let him know what was going on. Stan had called the police.  
Then he'd crossed to a corner closet and removed a shotgun. And loaded it.  
And then, summoned by the gunfire, he'd burst out into the kitchen, intent on repelling anyone who crossed him.

As he came out into the kitchen, the first thing he saw was the enormous slumped form of Benny, a meat cleaver still clenched in his nerveless hand. Turning, he saw the retreating backs of Jamie and Ray. He raised the shotgun.  
Ray, however, had heard him. Stopping dead, he reached out and flung Jamie in behind him, out of the line of fire; a whip of green energy lashed out and knocked Stan to the floor.  
The gun still fired. Both barrels, with some five seconds pause between each discharge.  
The first round of shot hit Ray full on.

Jamie screamed with sudden pain as a few stray pellets thudded into his arm; it changed swiftly to one of utter horror as half of Ray's head suddenly dissolved under a hail of lead shot. The impact flung him backwards, dead instantly, and Jamie had time for one awful glimpse of the ruined face before he saw Stan drop the gun, knocked out by Ray's attack.  
It hit the floor butt-first and fired into the cooking equipment along the wall.  
And the deep-fryer exploded.

----

The blast of sound stunned everyone. Kurt moved first, leaping over the counter - again - and racing into the newly-formed inferno, searching for survivors. A moment later he reappeared, half dragging Jamie. The young boy was conscious, but wounded; both from bullets and a few minor burns. And, of course, was little more than a blubbering wreck after what he'd just seen.  
Scott and Kitty's hearts sunk when there was no sign of Ray. But there was no time to worry about that.  
A figure pushed in from the side, knocking Kitty to the ground; an instant later, Scott let out a tortured gasp as an oh-so-sharp knife sliced into his belly. Then he screamed.  
Ripping off his glasses, he fired a devastating blast of energy into his attacker; the man was thrown back by the blast, barely alive. Kitty scrambled to her feet.  
"Oh my God, Scott…" she grabbed his arm. "Hang on, we'll get you to the car, and-"  
She heard a clicking sound. She looked down.  
The guy with the gun, lying at her feet, was aiming it up at her. She glared at him and phased.  
But then he moved.  
Fired.  
And Kurt suddenly snapped back, a foul starburst of blood exploding from his chest. And then another.

And another.  
The FOH thug managed three shots before Kitty, with a scream of anguish, solidified and kicked him in the head, knocking him out cold.

Helping Scott over to Jamie, she phased them all, glancing around. Most of the FOH gang members were down, either unconscious or injured. And the fire in the kitchen was spreading. She gulped.  
"Come on. We have to go."  
Jamie, concussed, lolled his head. "But… Kurt an' Ray are… still here…"  
Kitty bit her lip. _Easier not to go there… Oh, god…_  
"It's okay, Jamie… come on, we have to get to the car."  
Protesting faintly, he allowed himself to be led through the wall of the diner with Scott and Kitty. Within a minute they were seated in Scott's car, Kitty in the driver's seat, being the only uninjured one.  
As she started the car, she wasn't surprised to find that she was crying.  
Sirens wailed as she pulled out of the parking lot, the authorities arriving too late. All they would find was an inferno and charred remains. And questions.

Kitty just hoped the rest of them could live with the answers.


	10. Jamie vs Juggernaut vs Omaga Red

**Jamie vs Juggernaut vs Omega Red (Deathfic, Jamie wins) – Requested by Shkspr1048**

Arkady Rossovich crouched above the path, as unmoving as the stones about him. He made no sound, gave off no signs of life. He could well have been a statue from his pale skin, perched above the narrow track between the rises of stone.  
This, however, was not due to choice. He knew from bitter experience that his target's reputation was well-earned, and that he'd need the element of surprise to do his job here. The slightest noise or movement would give him away, and if the tables were turned, he himself would most likely be beaten.

It had taken years, but Weapon X had finally admitted defeat. Their target was too elusive and far too skilled for them to capture. So, at last, they'd changed tactics, deciding that the target would be easiest caught by someone like him. And a bounty of $250,000 US had been placed on the target's head. A chance at which Arkady had jumped.  
He would, of course, had brought the Wolverine in for free, just to see his old enemy fall. But if someone was willing to pay him two hundred and fifty thousand dollars to do it, that was even better.

----

Omega Red, however, was not alone. Nor was everyone unaware of his presence.  
The hulking figure sitting some three hundred metres behind him showed that.  
Cain Marko had also had word of the bounty hunt for the Wolverine. And, like the Russian, was there to collect it. But unlike Omega Red, Juggernaut was following the oldest rule of the bounty hunt.  
In a bounty hunt, it didn't matter who brought the target down. It only mattered who brought the target in.

_Let the Russian do the work_, Juggernaut had decided. Once the Wolverine was down, Omega Red wouldn't be much of a difficulty. Then he could have the bounty all to himself.  
Maybe there was even someone who'd pay for the head of Arkady Rossovich…

----

Logan kept up a leisurely pace through the trees, following the rough trail. It had been a hectic week for him - not that he ever seemed to have a relaxed one, of course - and now he was enjoying the chance for a quiet run. He was as calm and casual as anyone had ever seen him; calm enough to relax his guard for a while.  
An unfortunate decision, if ever he'd made one.  
He became aware of the faint tang in the air some seconds before he realised its significance. By then, however, he was gasping for breath, staggering suddenly on legs that didn't want to support his weight anymore. Pausing, glaring about him, he leaned against the rocks on the side of the track; at this point in the trail, twin 'walls' of stone rose up on either side, forming a narrow pass. In the seconds that remained to him, Logan felt a grudging admiration for the location chosen for the ambush.  
An instant later, as metallic cables whipped down from either side and hurled him into the cold hard stone, everything faded to black.

Omega Red himself dropped down a moment later. Swiftly he crossed to Logan's prone form and pressed a pale hand to the fallen man's neck.  
Still alive. Good. The orders had been very clear on this point - Wolverine was wanted alive. A corpse was no good to anyone.  
After a few seconds, however, he slung the limp form over one shoulder and began to move off, jogging at a remarkable pace along the same track Logan had been following.  
He never saw the huge shape behind him circle around into the trees ahead.

----

Jamie Mardox was racing down the track at an incredible speed. His short hair waved in the wind as people cheered him on toward the finish, his feet pumping the pedals furiously as he rocketed between the trees, jumping over mounds and hollows in the track.  
In his mind, of course.  
In reality, though he was going at about the same speed as a running man, he wasn't going all that fast. Had he tried, of course, he'd almost certainly have crashed the bike. There wasn't enough wind to make his hair wave, and besides that it was hidden under a baseball cap. And the legions of fans were only figments of his imagination. But he didn't care.  
He often rode this simple course through the woods; it gave him the chance to be alone with his thoughts, relax his mind. Besides, BMX riding was a hobby of his, and gave him a little extra exercise.

The resounding crash ahead stopped him, though. Bringing the bike to a sudden halt, he squinted through the dust cloud that rose and wafted in front of him. Whatever had made the sound, it was too far ahead for him to see.  
But he could hear faint voices.  
For a moment, he debated the wisdom of going on. Then curiosity, that ill-famed killer of felines the world over, got the better of him.  
He kept going. But much slower this time.  
It wasn't long at all before he peered out from between the trees at two utterly enormous men he'd never seen before.  
And the motionless body of Mr. Logan lying nearby.

----

"Leave," Omega Red growled. "The Wolverine is mine."  
Juggernaut sneered. "No. He was yours. Now he's mine. Now get out of here before I hand you over to Weapon X as well."  
"I caught him," the Russian spat. "You will take him over my dead body or not at all."  
"Be careful what you wish for, Arkady. I might just do that."  
The words had barely left Juggernaut's mouth before a half-dozen metallic tendrils whipped out toward him, snaking through the air at frightening speed.  
But this was just what Juggernaut had expected.  
His hands moved quicker than Omega Red had believed possible; in a flash he had snatched three tendrils in each hand. Then he pulled savagely.  
Omega Red was yanked abruptly through the air with a grunt and sailed toward Juggernaut; his flight was cut short by a vicious headbutt that made him stagger back. He recovered instantly, though, lashing out with brute force, jolting the enormous mutant's head back, giving him time to rip himself free of Juggernaut's grasp.  
They glared at one another, panting, for a moment.  
Then they engaged once more.

Jamie watched the contest in front of him with almost sick fascination for a few moments. Then he shook his head as if to clear it and glanced at Logan. He still wasn't moving.  
Jamie wasn't entirely certain what was going on. All he knew was that the two huge mutants in front of him were apparently fighting over Logan, who was unconscious. He hoped. But they seemed to be pretty preoccupied for the moment?  
Moving through the trees with a stealth that was more imagined than realised, he soon enough managed to reach Logan's prone form. For a moment he debated about what to do; then, finally, he settled on what seemed like the best option.  
Grabbing Logan by one arm, he began to drag the limp man away from the nearby brawl. At the same time, however, Jamie's mind was active.  
_Professor Xavier..?_

As Omega Red stepped back a pace, he squinted his eyes at his huge adversary; Juggernaut backed away as the clouds of deadly spores wafted toward him.  
"What's wrong, Russian?" he growled. "Can't fight hand-to-hand?  
"Nyet," Omega Red snarled. "But I do not have time to waste with you. I will deliver the Wolverine as quickly as I can. You are a mere hindrance."  
Juggernaut's eyes contracted with fury at the easy dismissal. But he could do nothing; lacking a ranged attack, he couldn't get close enough to the white-skinned Russian to do anything.  
"If you go near the Wolverine like that, Russian, you'll kill him. Then you don't get anything."  
"This is only to deal with you, fool. When you are no longer a problem I will take my prey back to-"  
He glanced over his shoulder at where he'd dropped Wolverine when Juggernaut had attacked from the side.  
And saw Jamie dragging the Canadian slowly out of sight.

----

Jamie looked up just in time to see the metallic whip come lashing toward him. Too late to get out of the way.  
It struck him full in the chest, knocking him back, flying through the trees. Had he struck one, it would have likely shattered his spine; as it was, he was fortunate. He simply landed hard on his back on the ground, the wind leaving him with an 'oof'.  
A moment later, as his senses reasserted themselves, he looked around. The tentacle had left him after sending him flying away; now it was out of sight.  
What was in sight, however, was a small tree; it had been broken by his passage and now lay on the ground next to him. It was slightly shorter than he was, and pointy at one end.  
_Well, when fate opened a window…_  
Jamie snatched up the oversized stick and ran back the way he'd come. He didn't have any clear plan; the only real idea was that he needed to get Mr. Logan away from the big guys. If he had a weapon, so much the better.

Juggernaut was still fuming impotently as Omega Red swatted away the irritating little kid. The moment the Russian's back was turned, however, he moved. Snatching up a large rock from nearby, he hucked it into Omega Red's back. The throw would have put the rock through an average brick wall. In this case, it simply caused Omega Red to stagger forward with a roar of pain. It also distracted the Russian enough to stop the deadly spores from spreading. A moment later, Juggernaut pounced on him.  
Then he stopped and gaped.  
The kid was back. And he had some friends, it seemed.  
Roughly fifty of them. All armed with… big pointy sticks?  
_What the hell?_  
Then three of them flicked their makeshift spears at the grappling mutants. Two missed. The other grazed Omega Red's thigh.  
Juggernaut released the pale Russian.  
"Tell you what," he said, not taking his eyes from the incredible sight before him. "We call it a truce until we deal with whatever's going on here."  
"Da. That may be a good idea."

----

It was like the tide crashing on rocks. A wave of multiples, roaring on the attack, charged at the massive Bounty Hunters, waving their crude weapons. And there the tide broke.  
Up to half a dozen multiples at a time went flying with each swing of Juggernaut's massive arms ? and he swung his arms many, many times. It wasn't long before all the surrounding area was littered with multiples, unconscious - or worse.  
Not far away, a cloud of venomous spores was barely visible in the air around Omega Red. The multiples had learned they couldn't get close to him; over a dozen who would no longer try lay on the ground around him. But the Russian was by no means left alone. A hail of spears rained down on him from every angle. Many were swatted away by the flailing metallic lashes sprouting from his pale wrists.  
Some were not.

Omega Red was the first to fall. Pouring blood from dozens of wounds, impaled all over his body, he finally keeled over under the unrelenting hail of spikes.  
The tendrils quivered, twitched, and ceased to move.  
The light in Omega Red's half-open eyes slowly went out.  
And the legions of Multiples focused their attacks solely on Juggernaut.  
They surged in, wave after wave, stabbing, kicking, scratching. Every time, he shook the hordes off. Every time they came back, they gained more ground.  
It was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened.  
With a final cry, Juggernaut fell. The last visible part of him, a single bloody hand grasping vainly at the air, broke free under the pile. Then, slowly, it went under.  
And the seething masses of Multiples stopped.

A single Jamie stepped out from the trees and looked around. Closing his eyes, he concentrated furiously.  
The swarms of multiples, standing and fallen, vanished with a blurring motion.  
All that remained were the bloody forms that had once belonged to Omega Red and Juggernaut.  
Jamie turned away and let them lie. He had to catch up with the others.

----

Hank examined Logan carefully on the operating table, then sighed with relief. "He's merely unconscious. In a few hours he should awaken none the worse for the experience."  
Charles nodded, then glanced at the small young man at the foot of the bed. "Very well, but we still need to deal with those who were attacking Logan, as Jamie reported…"  
The multiple paused for a second; at that moment, the door opened. A second multiple entered the room, crossed to his double.  
They merged.  
The sole remaining Jamie smiled and shook his head. "No, I don't think you need to worry about them."


	11. Erik vs Charles

**Erik vs Charles (Pastfic, no wheelchair, breakup) – Requested by Yma**

Dishes clattered in the kitchen out the back as the waiter took the orders of the two gentlemen seated at table 7.  
"Yours is Scotch on the rocks, right Xav?"  
"Oh, of course, of course. And you're still a martini fan, if I remember."  
"You should, we only went out drinking last week."  
"Ah, but I said '_If I remember_', Rik. I don't remember much about that night. I doubt you do either, actually."  
"Touché…"

----

Some minutes later, as dishes of food and respective drinks were laid on the table, the pair wound down the idle chat and paid attention to the meal. With occasional glances around them at several ladies on the surrounding tables who were doing very bad jobs at pretending not to stare.  
And indeed, there really were several interested looks coming in. It wasn't hard to see why; a pair of handsome men in their early thirties, plainly wealthy, educated judging by their voices, and with nary a wedding ring to be seen. The fact that one's hair was white as snow, while the other was perfectly hairless, only added to the impressive appearance.  
They'd been closest friends for years. Upon occasions, they'd competed gently to see who could get the most phone numbers in one night. This, however, was no such event.  
They'd come to discuss the issue that was tearing apart their friendship.

----

Eventually, Charles pushed his empty plate away and picked up his glass. "So, Rik. What shall we talk about?"  
Erik, drink in hand, lounged back in his chair. "You know what, Xav."  
The bald man nodded. "Yes, I suppose I do. Do you want to start?"  
Erik sipped at his drink and set it on the table. "Xav, we've been friends since high school. I don't want that friendship to end. But this isn't something we can work around. Eventually it's going to come to a point, and there's no turning back when it does. But I'll be damned if I know quite how to deal with it."  
Charles sighed. "Well, I suppose the best thing we can do is discuss it for now. Come on - you've heard my opinion on this more times than I'd care to remember. Let's hear yours for a change."  
Erik chuckled. "Right now, Xav? But it sounds so… stiff, so political. I'd feel like a total ass."  
"Rik, you've been an ass for years."  
"Be nice, or I'll kick your ass."  
"?And I'll make you want to kiss your own ass."  
"And I'll draw a line down the middle of your head so that it looks like an ass!"1  
Charles held up a hand, laughing. "Okay, okay. Truce. Just give me a non-political version, then."  
Erik, also laughing, nodded. Then, pausing for breath, he stared into his glass for a moment; then he leaned forward, eyes intent.

"Xav, you and I are different. From other people, I mean. There's no great news there for either of us, but what's important about it is how others will react to it. People are always afraid of what is different, what they can't understand."  
"People would try to understand if we let them, Rik."  
"Maybe they would, Xav, but their methods of understanding far too often involve metal laboratories and sharp scalpels. Neither of us want that. I'd like people to understand, I really would, but I won't turn myself in as a test subject to do it."  
"Point."  
"Thank you." Erik smiled.  
Charles raised an eyebrow. "There. Not so hard, is it? And you don't sound overly political at all. But anyway, go on."  
Erik nodded. "There are people who are never going to accept us, or understand us. People who will look at you, for example, and say, 'He can kill us by thinking about it'. These people will never be won over and I'm sad to say that there are a lot of them. We can't live in the same world they do, and if they can't be convinced…" he paused. "…then we have to deal with them in some other way."  
Charles frowned. "And I think that is where we have trouble," he commented.  
Erik rolled his eyes. "Xav, I'm not looking for a fight. They are. If this whole _peace and harmony _thing were possible, I'd jump at it. But as long as fools stand in the way, it's just not going to happen."  
"Rik, that's no excuse to start a war!"  
"Just because there's going to be a war doesn't mean I'm going to start it. But I'm allowed to try and make an end of it. If the people who hold our kind down are taken out of the picture, you and I will be free to do what we wish. As will others like us. It's evolution, Charles. Let's use what we've been given to take what we deserve. God made us superior for a reason, after all."  
Charles finished his drink and set the glass down. "Rik, I just don't see the need. If we give people time, they'll come around. Things aren't as bad as you say."  
"Really?"  
"Yes, really. People are more open-minded than you give them credit for. I happen to think that, given a chance, most people would accept us."  
For a long moment, Erik regarded his friend in silence. Then he rose abruptly.  
"Alright, Xav – let's test that theory."

And the room exploded into chaos.

----

Cutlery whipped up from every table without warning, jerking from people's hands, leaping from where pieces had rested in or beside plates. Loose change rattled out from purses. A metal walking stick sprang into the air.  
People began to scream.  
A moment later the cluster of metallic objects shot across the room to Erik - who, as his stunned audience stared, began to rise into the air. The items then began to orbit his body in various intricate patterns.  
The screams got louder.

Charles sprang to his feet. "Damn it, Rik! What do you think you're doing?" he hissed.  
Erik smiled. "This, Xav, is fairly well what happened to me on the day my abilities manifested. I was lucky enough to not have an audience then. Now I'm re-enacting the scene for everyone here.?  
Charles glared up at him. "Why?"  
"To test your theory, like I said. If I had been in public when my powers manifested, this is exactly what it would have been like, save that I'd be much more panicked. This could happen to anyone of our kind - and now we're seeing how people would react." He glanced around and gestured at the terrified crowd. "And it seems that your faith may have been misplaced. There isn't much accepting or understanding being done at all."  
Charles looked about desperately. "Alright, fine! You've made your point, Rik, now get down!"  
"Oh, I don't know, I rather like it up here…"  
Charles swallowed. There seemed to be no option.  
Focusing his gaze on Erik, he concentrated, pushing out with his mind. Erik stiffened and let out a strangled cry as his eyes went wide.  
And crashed ungracefully to the floor in a hail of falling metal.

Shaking his head to clear it, Erik slowly got up. Then he fixed a deadly gaze upon Charles.  
"God, Xav! What are you doing? Trying to kill me?"  
The rain of cutlery had, unfortunately, involved sharp knives and pointy forks. Erik now sported literally dozens of superficial cuts and abrasions, making his furious expression all the more frightening.  
"Rik, you were being an idiot! Do you want to get us both in trouble?"  
"You said to give people a chance to accept us for what we are! I did it, they reacted badly - and instead of helping them to 'understand', you attacked me?"  
Charles glared at him. "Rik, there is a time and a place for-"  
"Yes, for you to stab me in the back!" Erik spat. "So much for helping our kind, Xav. But if you won't help them, I will!"  
The metal cane rose off the floor and whirled rapidly toward Charles? head.

----

Charles ducked. Just. The cane whirred an inch over his scalp with a noise like a bird beating its wings, crashing onto the table behind him and sending plates of food flying as people cowered in terror.  
A moment later, however, it was Erik who staggered back under intense psychic pressure, groaning in pain.  
_Rik, don't do this.  
Do what, Xav? Defend myself? Try to liberate our kind? I may not be perfect, Xav, but I'm no sell-out.  
And neither am I!  
Then why are you fighting me right now?  
Because I will not try to achieve my aims through the blood of innocent people.  
And why, then, do you hope to use a fool's methods toward a hopeless dream?_  
Charles released Erik's mind and stepped forwards so they were very close.  
"Because I choose to," 2 he said softly.  
And then he punched Erik as hard as he could.

Erik staggered back at the impact with a grunt, treading on scattered cutlery as he did so, eyes blazing with fury.  
"You'll pay for that," he growled.  
Striding forward, he lashed out with one hand; Charles caught the blow on his shoulder, stepping back as Erik began swinging wildly.  
And then staggered as a steak knife whistled forward and carved into his shin.  
This was doubly bad for him; besides the injury, it made him drop his guard. He was jolted backwards by a blow and leaned back with both hands on another table behind him, hissing in pain.  
His hand grazed an untouched plate of _tortellini pollo e funghi _3 on the table top; instantly, he seized it, flinging it at Erik before charging like a bull at the white-haired mutant.  
Erik reacted swiftly to the hurled plate; with a wave of his hand, the coins littering the floor rose up, forming a solid wall of metal. The dish shattered harmlessly against this barrier, sending shards of porcelain and pasta in all directions. This was effective, and it looked impressive; unfortunately, it blocked his view of Charles. When the coins dropped away a moment later, Erik had a bare second to gape before the furious bald telepath barrelled into him and sent them both sprawling to the floor.

Debris on the carped dug into them as they rolled back and forth, struggling wildly. This only lasted a few moments, however; after that short time, Charles felt himself lifted into the air on a carpet of coins and cutlery as Erik kicked free.  
Then the objects moved, wrapping around him, tightening. He cried out at the pain; Erik paid the sound no heed.  
Face turning red, Charles brought his head around, locking eyes with Erik.  
"So be it," he rasped. "You want an enemy out of me, Rik, that's what you'll get."  
And an instant later, Erik collapsed bonelessly. The metal objects under his control fell to the floor the instant he lost consciousness. As too did Charles.  
Erik had been right - falling like this really did hurt. The cutlery really dug in.

Charles lay on the floor, panting. He was bleeding from a dozen minor cuts as well as the deep wound on his shin, which burned like fire. He'd probably get a permanent limp from it 4. He was exhausted, hurt, and had just been in a huge, public fight with his now ex-best friend.  
He couldn't remember ever feeling this miserable.  
But he still staggered to his feet. His job wasn't done yet. Seizing the metal cane off the nearby table, he hobbled with it to the door.  
Luckily, only a very few patrons had entirely fled the restaurant; most had stayed, fascinated, to watch the fight.  
Charles began to concentrate.

By the end of the night, only Erik Lensherr and Charles Xavier would ever know what had happened in that restaurant.  
And neither of them would, or could, ever forget it.

----

"You alright, Chuck?"  
Charles snapped back to the present. He was seated in his chair on the porch, staring out over the Institute grounds. Logan was regarding him with an expression that told him he'd been staring blankly for some time now.  
"Er… yes, yes. I'm fine."  
"You sure?"  
He forced a smile. ?Indeed. Just… lost in memories. That's all."  
"Hm." Logan took a sip of his coffee. "Different. Wouldn't know what that's like."  
Charles nodded stiffly and turned away again as the burly Canadian walked off.  
_And for that, my friend, you have no idea how lucky you are._

- FIN

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

1 It's from Cool Runnings. But I always wanted to see someone say this to Xavier.  
2 Neo, you heathens. If you didn't know that, you deserve to have Yma throw a llama at you.  
3 Yummy… my favourite…  
4 Whee! Irony, irony! Woot!


	12. Toad vs The Acolytes

**Movieverse! Toad vs Evo! Acolytes (No restrictions) – Requested by Mysterious Stranger**

The wind was incredible. It was a physical thing; trying to fight it was like pushing a moving truck and expecting it to start going backwards. Then, with a sudden awesome blast, it got stronger.

Toad was nearly obliterated. He felt his skin pressing back against his face, his eyes sinking into their sockets from the unbelievable pressure. No living thing could have withstood that tidal wave of wind; Toad was no exception. He was picked up and hurled from the Statue like an errant leaf.  
As he passed out over the waves, he saw a single fleeting chance; he took it. His tongue snapped out, faster than an eye could see, wrapping around the guard rail even as he crossed beyond it, anchoring him. For a moment he remained there, flapping in the breeze like some kind of bizarre pennant.  
And then she came - the Storm. Her eyes shimmered with awesome power as she flew above the floor; her hair and clothing rippled around her, making her appear like some spectre from myth. When she spoke, her voice rang and echoed over the roar of the wind.  
"Do you know what happens to a toad when it gets struck by lightning?"  
Toad's eyes widened as a cold smile touched her lips.  
"The same as everything else…"  
And then he was on fire.

He let out one final scream of agony as his grip on the rail slipped. The roaring wind rocketed him out, far over the storm-whipped waters, as the lightning crashed into him again and again and again.  
Thunder boomed as energy began to arc of his writhing, airborne form. When his own eyes began to shimmer, however, it became clear that something was amiss.  
Storm, it seemed had been wrong. When struck by lightning, Toads apparently did something very unusual indeed.  
And an instant before the struggling mutant hit the water, the lightning culminated in a final blinding flash of white.  
When it cleared, Toad was nowhere to be seen.

----

"Where'd de signal come from?" Gambit asked, fiddling with his deck.  
"A skyscraper in New York City," Magneto responded. "On top of one, actually. I've never quite seen anything like it before."  
"I've been to New York," Pyro commented. "Heaps of stuff there that you don't see anywhere else. Which is good, mostly."  
"You're going back there," Magneto informed him. "I want to know what produced that burst of energy. Something that powerful could be very useful indeed."  
"Da, true," Colossus said uneasily. "It could also be very dangerous to people who approach it…"  
"Which is why all of you will go," came the reply. "You are well trained. Mastermind has other engagements; nonetheless, I doubt there is much capable of fazing the four of you combined."  
"Wanna bet?" Pyro snorted. "There's always the Mardi Gras in Sydney. Christ, it still gives me bad dreams?"  
"Remy has seen de Mardi Gras, mon ami. It weren't that bad."  
"Mate, I think the Sydney version might be just a little different to what you're used to…"

----

Toad groaned as his eyes slowly opened, blinking water out of his eyes.  
"I," he muttered, "do not like that woman."  
Sitting up, he looked around. It seemed to have stopped raining, although he himself was soaked. Apparently, he was still in New York; the various visible landmarks showed that.  
Among said landmarks was, notably, the Statue of Liberty. Dark, seemingly empty and alone, it stood on its island facing toward the area where the UN council should have been.  
The place that was now glaringly empty.  
_Right_, he thought. I_ should be fish bait - that ought to 'ave killed me. Hurt enough. Instead, I'm on top of a bloody skyscraper nearly a bloody mile away, with no sign of the others. The Council's buggered off, nothing's different as far as the rest of the place looks, and I've got no bloody clue what's going on._  
Shrugging his coat more comfortably onto his shoulders, he peered down at the dark city far below.  
"What in blazes is going on?"

The sound of his mutter didn't carry far; however, it went far enough for the hulking figure that stepped onto the roof an instant before he spoke. With astonishing stealth for someone of such bulk, the figure advanced toward Toad's back. A moment before contact, however, Toad turned. Jumped slightly in surprise.  
And did the last thing Sabretooth had expected.  
"Christ, Vic, you scared a year's life out of me? Toad snapped. "What the bloody hell is going on, and where are the others?"  
Sabretooth stopped and blinked in surprise.  
"Last thing I remember is the weather bitch trying to fry me, and then I'm waking up here. What the hell happened to you, anyway? If you'd been helping me and Raven out, we'd have had no trouble. Nearly had 'em all, but then…" Toad trailed off, seeing Sabertooth's expression. "Vic?"  
The huge man stepped back, his face a mask of confusion.  
"For Christ's sake, Vic, say something. I'm nervous enough without any games."  
The answer, when it arrived, came from behind Sabretooth.  
"Who are you?" came the deep voice of Colossus as he stepped up with the other Acolytes. Toad blinked.  
"I'm the Toad," he said after a moment. "Who the hell are you?"  
"De Alycotes," Gambit informed him. "An' Remy be wonderin' if you're an old friend o' Sabie's?"  
"I never seen him before in my life," Sabretooth snarled. Toad gaped at him.  
"Jesus, Vic! We weren't exactly mates, but cut the bullshit! I've worked with you and Raven for the last couple of years now, and the least you could do is be honest!"  
Pyro blinked. "Huh? Boss got himself a new team? How come we weren't told?"  
"He's lyin'!" Sabretooth snarled. "I don't know what the game is, but I ain't worked with him. Ever."  
Colossus stepped up and examined Toad's face. "What did you say your name was?"  
"Toad."  
"You are not Toad," the Russian said flatly. "Toad is a child."  
Toad sneered right back. "And the Tin Man lived in Oz," he retorted. "But you're here, aren't you? Now be nice or we'll see if metal bounces when it's thrown off a skyscraper."  
Colossus glowered, but Gambit just yawned at him.  
"Remy got no time for guessin' games. Just grab de man, whatever his name be, an' we work it out when we get back."  
Sabretooth and Colossus nodded in agreement and stepped forward; Toad bounded away to the edge of the roof. "Sod off, I'm not going anywhere until someone tells me what's going on!"  
Pyro shook his head and blew out a short spurt of fire, dazzlingly bright in the shadows. "All in good time, mate. Now come with us and don't do it the hard way."  
As Gambit twirled his staff with a lazy grin, the two larger men advanced once more. Toad shook his head.  
"This," he muttered, "has been a very bad day."  
And then he hurled himself toward them.

----

As he moved, Toad silently resolved to leave Sabretooth standing to the last; in spite of what the bigger man had been saying, he wasn't quite willing to make a direct attack on the man who should have been an ally. There were, after all, several good reasons why he could be acting a little strangely.  
_Such as that bloody telepath we met the other night…_  
Nor, for that matter, did he particularly want to arouse the huge man's full anger.  
The others, though, were a different story.

Toad shot through the air with startling speed, landing easily next to Colossus with a smirk. Before the astounded Russian could react, a booted foot shot up with deadly force and cracked directly into his metallic chest.  
This had mixed results. Colossus was flung onto his back with an impact that cracked the roof beneath him; no other damage was done, save to his pride. Toad, on the other hand, fared less well. Besides feeling as though he'd broken a few toes, physics took a hand - since Colossus didn't move enough to compensate for the power of that single kick, Toad moved instead.  
The Acolytes could only blink as Toad, with a short yell, hurtled backwards and dropped over the edge of the roof.

----

Rising, Colossus strode over to the brink of the roof and peered down over the two-foot-high barrier that ran around it. Moments later, he was joined by the other three. There was no sign of Toad.  
"That was unexpected," Pyro commented.  
"Merde..."  
"Boss ain't gonna like this one bit."  
Colossus didn't say anything. Instead, he squinted intently downwards. Not far below, there seemed to be a dark shape that was -  
A surprised bellow was muffled by a pink, tentacle-like appendage that shot up out of the shadows and wrapped around Colossus' head. Before the others could do anything, it pulled taut; and the metal-skinned man was abruptly yanked head-first out into space.  
The remaining Acolytes scrambled back from the edge as the Russian's roar of anger and astonishment faded only with distance. An instant later, the strange appendage came back into sight, snapping up and wrapping itself around a nearby satellite dish fixed to the roof.  
This time, when it pulled taut, it served to lift Toad back onto the roof as the other three mutants gaped at him. He waggled his eyebrows as his tongue re-entered his mouth.  
"Then there were three," he sneered.

The Acolytes, to their credit, reacted quickly to their shock. Swiftly circling around, they positioned themselves at three points, covering Toad from all sides. The tallow-skinned mutant, however, didn't seem to care overly much. Glancing around, he gave a devilish grin to Pyro and Sabretooth; then, spinning rapidly, he turned and hurtled toward the startled Gambit.  
The Cajun brought one end of his staff up as Toad came on, whistling toward his head; Toad ducked under it and grabbed the staff, holding it in place.  
"Not a toy for little boys," he informed Gambit. Gambit simply released the staff, to Toad's confusion.  
"Den Gambit can play wit' his cards instead, oiu?"  
The ace of spades glowed in his hands for an instant before, with a lazy flick, it was thrown. Toad blinked, then casually swatted the card out of the air with his newly-acquired staff.

----

When the world stopped spinning, Toad shook his head and flipped to his feet, albeit somewhat groggily. His eyebrows were singed, there was a trace of smoke in his clothing, and any exposed skin was slightly burnt. He was also back in the centre of the roof area, sans staff. Glancing around, he saw Gambit retrieve the weapon with a smirk. Then all further observations were halted by a strange roaring sound behind him.  
The roar of a flamethrower being activated.  
Toad instinctively flung himself sideways; three balls of flame rocketed through the space where he'd stood a moment before. One crashed into the satellite dish, reducing it to so much twisted metal; the other two curved around and headed back toward Toad. Again, he dodged; this time, two fireballs and the five of hearts exploded on the space he'd been occupying.  
As he gaped, a horrifyingly powerful grip seized his shoulders and he was lifted off the ground, twisting to face Sabretooth.  
"You've fucked us around long enough," the huge man growled. Toad sighed.  
"Sorry to have to do this, Vic…"  
The impact of Toad's kick may have killed a lesser man; Sabretoth himself didn't fare too well. Seven ribs, stove in by the impact, cut into him; he was flung bodily across the roof, his grip on Toad slipping; and he broke two vertebrae and fractured his skull when he connected with the side of the service elevator. The wounds healed within moments, but Sabretooth was too unconscious to notice.

----

Toad, meanwhile, never stopped moving. Dropping gracefully to the rooftop again, he bounded sideways at the irritating Cajun. This time he grabbed the staff before Gambit could even swing.  
"I said," he hissed, "you shouldn't be playing with this!"  
This time, when the king of hearts flickered to life, Toad was ready. With little wind-up, he spat a gob of green slime out, connecting with the card an instant before it left Gambit's hand, sticking it in place.  
A moment later, the explosion threw him backwards toward the edge of the roof, where he landed on his back. Groaning, he lifted himself into a sitting position ? just as Toad hurled the staff, javelin style. It whistled as it flew forwards, connecting with Gambit's head with a sound like a well-hit cricket ball. The Cajun dropped like a stone.

With a grin, Toad turned again.  
_Three down, one to go… where'd the bloody Australian get to?_  
The brilliant flash of light to one side answered that question. A menacing grin on his features, Toad spun to face Pyro. And froze, the grin wavering. His eyes widened, the grin slipped away, and he took a step back.  
Trails and whips of fire orbited Pyro lazily, circling his body in streaks of red. Flames roared behind him, hanging in the air in a blazing storm, while small humanoid fireballs pranced around him and shapes that were reminiscent of birds whirled about the night sky above his head.  
"My turn," he grinned.  
Then he charged, sprinting forwards with a maniacal grin on his features, a blazing stream of fire in his wake. Toad, for his part, did something then that he hadn't done for a long time.  
He ran.

Rather, he tried to run. Without success. Even as he turned, two jets of flame curled around him, cutting off escape, trapping him in a U-shaped funnel of fire with Pyro racing down toward him. Tensing himself, Toad prepared to leap to safety; the firebirds that Pyro had created swooped over him, forming a web of shimmering heat. To get out, he'd have to go through the fire - which was a fairly similar idea to committing suicide.  
Gulping slightly, he turned back to take his only remaining option. To fight Pyro.  
Unable to leap high, he used his powerful legs to propel himself forward at high speed, straight toward the advancing mutant. Gauging the angle, he pushed down with both feet, hurtling himself at Pyro. The final Acolyte, however, didn't even check his run. A jet of fire blasted over one shoulder, striking Toad soundly; though his coat prevented any serious harm, the trajectory of his leap was completely thrown out. With a cry, he fell to the roof.  
Pyro was on him instantly. A savage kick found Toad's ribs, while one hand lifted him off the rooftop by his collar; his free arm swung in a savage backhand against Toad's head. With a metallic ring, the nozzle of his flamethrower bashed the pale man back down. Rolling sideways, Toad avoided another kick and pushed himself to his knees; Pyro stepped in and dealt out a savage uppercut that flung Toad onto his back once more. Desperately, Toad's tongue whipped out as Pyro came on again, wrapping around his wrist.  
Then he screamed.

Licking a recently-used flamethrower is never a good idea.

Blinded by pain, covered in injuries from an extremely violent night, Toad's energy finally gave out. The savage kick to the temple knocked him unconscious, but he was already on the way there when it happened.  
Everything went dark.

----

Pyro looked down at the fallen Toad with a thoughtful look on his face. Then, sighing, he waved his hands; the pyrotechnics all around him culminated in a brilliant flare of fire, and went out. Stooping, he hefted the unconscious man onto one shoulder and stood straight, looking around.  
Then, swearing under his breath, he dropped Toad unceremoniously to the ground. He wouldn't be taking him anywhere for some time.  
First, he had to wait for Gambit and Sabretooth to wake up.  
And for Colossus to get back up to the roof…


	13. Fred vs Todd

**Fred vs Todd (No restrictions) – Requested by Sock Munkey**

Todd stared down at the object in his lap. His face showed no emotion other than a faint smirk at how he'd acquired it; the old man at the convenience store had showed it to him when he'd suspected Todd of shoplifting. Which, of course, had inadvertently showed Todd exactly where to find it. All he'd ever needed was an excuse to go and take it.  
He now had one.  
The grin trickled off his face as he turned the pistol over and over in his hands.

----

Todd Tolenski was tired. He was tired of living in a building that should have long since been condemned. He was tired of scrounging a living out of nothing, having to steal bare necessities such as food. He was tired of being stood on, being spat at, being hated. He was tired of always being afraid that things were going to get worse if he let his guard down.  
Todd Tolenski was tired of life. To the point where he wanted to stop living it.

He was alone in the house. Lance and Pietro were at the mall, Fred was out hunting Pizza Delivery Boys, Tabitha was probably on her back somewhere, and Wanda? well, nobody knew where Wanda went out to. She did so, often, but nobody was ever quite sure what she got up to. Todd had asked her a few times and had received minor - and some not so minor - injuries as a reward for curiosity.

Wanda. Another unresolved problem in the mess that was his existence. He knew that he wasn't exactly a great catch, had had that pointed out far too many times to have illusions to the contrary. He still, however, saw no reason for her to hate him the way she seemed to. He may as well have been an enemy for all the kindness she showed.  
He knew he didn't stand a chance with her. Or anyone, for that matter. All he wanted was to make her stop hating him. The rest… well, he was allowed to dream. 1  
At least, he'd thought that. According to her latest ultimatum, dreaming about her would be punished by castration.  
That hadn't been the final straw, but it hadn't helped a whole lot.

He'd considered leaving a note for them, but had decided against it. Logic told him there was little point - nobody was likely to miss him. The only people who might notice he was gone were the rest of the Brotherhood, and they didn't seem attached to him. He was just… there.  
No, they'd know why he'd done it. If anyone could understand why, they would. And if they didn't, well, they didn't deserve a note. Let them guess.  
Besides, the only reaction he'd get would probably be them complaining about how to dispose of the body.

----

"Hey, Todd."  
Todd glanced up from his sitting position at the sound of a voice. There, his massive frame partially hidden by the doorway, stood Fred. On the floor next to him lay some slightly battered pizza boxes; for once, Fred wasn't glancing at them every few seconds. His was staring intently at the weapon in Todd's hands.  
"Yeah?"  
There was a dullness to Todd's voice that Fred didn't like. He stepped into the room, slowly.  
"Whatcha got there?"  
"Nuthin'."  
"Don't look like nothin'." Looks like somethin'."  
"Yeah. Maybe it is, yo."  
Fred took another big, slow step into the room. "So… want some pizza, then?"  
"Naw. No point in wastin' it. I don't need to eat anymore."  
Fred's fingers flexed. His eyes were fixed on the gun. "Say, Todd, you mind puttin' that down for a sec?"  
"Sure thing, yo. Gimmie a moment and it'll hit the floor."  
"Hey, hang on, just a-"  
"Tell the others I said bye, yo?"  
With that, Todd turned the gun upwards, pressed it under his chin, and -

Fred was too quick for him. A lunge and a sudden swing with one meaty paw sent the gun clattering across the room, also knocking Todd onto his back with a grunt. Fred loomed over him.  
"What the fuck do you think you're doin'?" he bellowed.  
Todd glared up at him. "What everyone wants me to fucking well do! Damn, nobody'll give a shit anyway! Why'd you gotta ruin it, yo?"  
"Cause it's fuckin' stupid! I ain't lettin? you do it!"  
Todd's face contorted with anger. "I don't need your goddamn permission," he spat. "My life, my choice. Now leave me the fuck alone!"  
Swiftly he rolled to one side, his tongue shooting out; it wrapped around the gun and retracted in a blink. Once again, Todd held the gun in one hand. Once again, Fred lunged. This time, Todd moved the gun-holding hand away - only to find that Fred wasn't after the gun.  
Instead, with an awesomely powerful grip, Todd found himself lifted bodily off the floor by the shoulders. For just an instant, he gaped in surprise.  
In that instant, Fred swiped one arm down, holding Todd one-handed, and knocked the gun away again.  
"You ain't gonna do it," he growled. Then, mostly because he didn't know what else to do, he cuffed the smaller boy across the head.

From Fred's perspective, blow was meant to be beyond gentle. For Todd, it rocked his head backwards as stars filled his vision and he let out a small cry of pain.  
Then, strangely, his face cleared. His eyes filled with anger, directed not at himself, but at the gargantuan teenager holding him off the floor.  
If Fred wouldn't let Todd vent his frustrations on himself, he'd vent them on Fred.

----

Fred wasn't sure what to expect when Todd suddenly stiffened in his grasp; what came next was definitely unexpected. A thunderous kick, the most violent Todd had ever dealt out to another living being. Rather than waste effort by aiming at Fred's torso, Todd's flexible leg came up almost level with his head and cracked hard against Fred's forearm. With a surprised roar, Fred's arm jerked back, taking Todd with it. His grip slipping, Todd was thrown across the room.  
This, however, was what the smaller boy had wanted. With astonishing agility, he twisted in mid-air to land perfectly against the wall on all fours, where he clung like an insect. His amber eyes glittered with anger an instant before his tongue shot out.

Fred instinctively put up his hands to defend himself against the attack; this, however, was pointless. Todd wasn't aiming at him. Rather, his tongue wrapped around the ceiling fan, pulling tight. As Fred watched, dumbfounded, the pale teen swung out as though on a pendulum, straight for Fred. One foot lashed out as he passed by.  
This time, the blow was aimed at Fred's torso. When it struck, shockwaves of flesh rippled around the site of impact, wreaking havoc with Fred's nervous system; this, combined with the crushingly powerful blow, was enough to make the huge mutant stagger back with a grunt. Todd, however, merely completed his swing by reaching the other wall. Again, he clung there for a moment; then he launched himself again.

Fred's teeth gritted as he attempted to rein in his anger. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew that this was most certainly not the time to trounce Todd. The boy needed help, and beating him to a pulp wouldn't achieve that at all.  
As Todd swung in again, Fred moved in close. The kick, when it came, had less windup, and therefore less impact; although the impact jolted him, this time Fred held his ground. His arms came up to seize Todd and crush him in close, prevent him from moving; he lunged forward a little to intercept Todd's trajectory.  
He failed.  
His eyes narrowing from effort, Todd flexed his tongue against the speed of his swing and stopped on a dime in mid-air as Fred stumbled in front of him. Then, hanging from the ceiling by his tongue, he lashed out again.  
His left foot struck Fred's side with enough force that his kidneys felt it, despite his invulnerability.  
His right thudded into the back of Fred's knee, causing it to buckle.  
As Fred dropped, Todd's left foot came up again, connecting with the side of the huge boy's head.  
Fred went down hard; the impact of the final blow sent him rolling away. Seeing this, Todd released his grip on the fan and dropped easily into a crouch in the centre of the room, even as Fred came to a halt some three meters away and raised himself halfway off the ground with both hands.  
Todd sneered at him.

**HAAA-AAAA-AAACHKKK...  
PH-THOUI!**

A glob of semi-translucent green slime splattered over Fred's right hand, sticking it fast to the floor. Satisfied, Todd turned his attention away from Fred. He now had what he wanted.  
Time to retrieve the gun from the floor between his feet.  
Not wasting any time, he scooped up the weapon, checked the safety, cocked it, and raised it. He glanced at Fred one final time.  
"My choice, yo."  
Fred's face contorted with a combination of fury and desparation. "Fuckit, NO!"

**CRAA-AAACK**

With a sound of splintering wood, Fred ripped his hand free, along with a sizeable chunk of the floorboards. Through the hole in the floor, the den of the Boarding house could be seen, directly underneath Todd's room.  
Astonishment slowed Todd for just an instant. He paused, gaping at the sight, not yet squeezing the trigger. That was all the time Fred needed. With a surprising burst of speed, he lurched forward, diving low, tackling at Todd's legs.  
He succeeded. And he failed.  
The success was that he did, indeed, manage to tackle Todd and bring him down in a heap.  
The failure was that the floor was already damaged. Besides the decrepit state of the Boarding House, Fred had recently torn a hole in the floor only a few meters away from where Todd stood. His leap, landing full-force on the wooden surface, was too much for the termite-eaten structure.  
With a shattering crash, the floor gave way. Todd and Fred fell together into the den in a jumble of wooden beams and chunks of plaster.

The noise was loud enough to mask the sound of Lance's jeep pulling up out the front.

----

The door burst open as Lance and Pietro ran in, looking around wildly. Their eyes were irresistibly drawn to the pile of rubble in the centre of the den, and the two forms underneath it. One very large, sitting up and swearing volubly; the other small, limp and unmoving.  
Lance found his voice first. "What the FUCK is going on here?"  
Fred wiped plaster dust from his eyes. "Christ, am I glad to see you two. We got trouble."  
Lance stepped forward and started digging Todd out of the debris. "No shit. What the hell happened here, and why - shit, he's bleeding…"  
Fred looked grim. "It gets worse. He was tryin' to kill himself."  
Pietro's jaw dropped. "So? What, you tried to save him the effort?"  
The speedster received a very dangerous look from the dusty behemoth. "I tried to stop him. An' I did. An' then he attacked me instead. It worked into a fight, an' this is what happened."  
Pietro shook his head. "What? Why the fuck would he want to kill himself?"  
"Maybe because he got sick of getting' stood on?" Fred growled. "Why don't ya ask him when he wakes up?"  
Lance slung the unconscious boy over one shoulder. "I will. But first we gotta wake him up. He needs a doctor. Pie, you come with me to the hospital. Fred, wait here and tell the girls what's up. Then we can try to figure out what the fuck is going on, alright?"  
Fred stepped forwards. "No, I'm goin' to the hosp-"  
The ground shook slightly. "Do not make me angry, Fred, now is not the time. You will stay here, you will wait for us, and we will come back when everything is sorted out. Understood?"  
If looks could kill, Fred's would have reduced Lance to carrion, but the enormous boy nodded grudgingly. "Fine. Just be quick."  
"Yeah, yeah. Pie, c'mon."

As they left, Fred turned back to the destruction of the den. Carefully, he began to pick out the larger pieces to take into the back yard.  
Then he stopped as his foot struck something metallic.  
Bending down, he picked up the pistol that Todd had been going to use, which had fallen downstairs with them. Slowly, he opened it up and shook the bullets into his hand. They went into a pocket.  
Then he carefully crushed the gun into a small mangled metal heap.

Often, Fred wished he wasn't as slow as he was.  
Never before had he wished so strongly that he was smarter. Smart enough to have seen what was happening in front of him.  
Smart enough, maybe, to help his friend.  
As he began lifting boards onto his shoulders, he found himself hoping feverently that whatever brains he had would for once be enough.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

1 Shameless side-fling to _Running In Circles_


	14. Forge vs Paul

**Forge vs Paul (No Restrictions) – Requested by Cheesy Monkey**

It was the final class of the day. Many people had a free hour to study before they were allowed to leave; Forge and Paul had claimed the otherwise deserted Computer Lab to work on some programming and finish compiling a few surveys for projects.

Forge slumped in his swivel chair and glared at the screen petulantly. "Mircosoft Access sucks," he announced.  
Paul, working on the console next to him, shook his head. "You're just saying that because you don't know how to use it."  
"Exactly! It's complicated, pointless, and does nothing that you can't achieve with any other spreadsheet program. It's a program that just exists for the sake of it, so people will buy it and waste more money."  
"What about a mail merge? Or a data search-and-sort system that actually works? Not a whole lot of other spreadsheets can run that."  
"Spare me. I'll take the extra time it takes to do it in a much less confusing way, thankyou."  
"Extra time? Time is money, buddy mine."  
Forge just snorted. "Right. Whatever. You can keep all the money you earn in the thirty seconds it takes me to do a couple of cut-and-paste jobs. I'll be happy doing it my way."  
Paul grinned. "I bet Bill Gates make a lot in that amount of time…"  
"…because he's ripping people off…"  
A groan. "Dude. Do not tell me you're one of those people who badmouth Microsoft or Gates just because they've got more Mula than you."  
"Microsoft was entirely begun by the Windows Operating System, which Bill Gates didn't even write himself. Of course, that could explain why it's so confusing ? even he doesn't know how to use it."  
"He bought an OS shell from a couple of friends and made it useable, which they'd given up trying to do. Then he made programs to run on it. And he made improvements along the way as he sold his products.?  
"Dude, I'd use a whole lot of words to describe Windows XP, but 'improvement' isn't one of them."

----

Five minutes later, the boys stood glaring at one another, work forgotten.  
"I don't believe you!" Paul practically yelled. "One minute you seem logical, and the next you're insulting a perfectly decent company for no reason!"  
"I've got a reason," Forge retorted hotly. "Microsoft monopolises the global market and uses that power to improve their image as They-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed. Then they flood the market with useless programs that the mindless consumers buy, and make millions. For example, Microsoft Access. I just don't like the way that system works, okay? Deal!"  
"I would think that the fact Microsoft has a global monopoly in the first place would not only indicate its popularity, but would lead to the conclusion that the products are of a high standard."  
"…like X-Box?"  
Paul went very still. "What about X-Box?"  
"It's an attempt to muscle in on the gaming console market that's handled by companies like Sega, Dreamcast and Nintendo. And I might add that it's a failed attempt, since that lousy excuse for a console doesn't hold a candle to Gamecube, and - AACK!"  
The tail end of Forge's sentence was cut off as Paul landed a shove to Forge's chest, knocking him back to bark a shin against a desk with a howl. A moment later, face contorted with indignant anger, Forge shoved back, almost causing Paul to trip over a chair.  
Things deteriorated from there.

Forge lunged forward, tackling the taller boy around the middle, arms flailing wildly as he headbutted Paul's chest. Paul grunted, stumbling back; then he began thudding his fists down on Forge's back whilst letting out various obscenities in a high voice.  
A moment later, Paul's back connected painfully with a desk; he let out a horrifying nasal squeal and thumped Forge inexpertly across the face, drawing blood in a thin trickle from the duskier boy's nose. Forge yelled, tangled their feet up in an attempt to withdraw, and toppled them both to the floor with Paul on top. By chance, one flailing arm encountered a stapler on the bench; he grabbed at it as he fell and clocked Paul soundly across the skull with it, raising a bump.  
Paul howled at the pain, even he slid partially off Forge; his head hadn't completely recovered from the blow when he threw himself on top of Forge and began pawing clumsily at the other boy's face, pushing his head back to bang it repeatedly against a table leg.  
At each impact, Forge let out a grunted expletive whilst trying unsuccessfully to throw Paul off him; after a moment of this, he drew back one hand and punched Paul awkwardly on the cheekbone, knocking him sideways. There was a brief respite as they caught their respective breaths; then they pounced on one another again.

The next few minutes contained some of the most inept and inexperienced hand-to-hand combat that the city of Bayville had ever seen in its colourful history.

"My hair! You've got my freaking hair!"  
"That's my knee you're standing on, you son of a bitch!"  
**CRASH**  
"Look what you did, jerkwad!"  
"ME? That was you, moron!"  
**SMASH**  
**TINKLE**  
"You're paying for that!"  
"Screw you!"  
"No, screw you!"  
**SMACK**  
"Aaah! You fucking bitch-slapped me!"  
"That was an open-handed punch, loser!"  
"Well what's this then?"  
**SMACK**  
"Ow! That was a goddamn bitch-slap!"  
"Because you're a bitch!"  
"No, you're the bitch!"

The fact that neither boy was inflicting more than minor superficial damage didn't help matters as much as one might have thought. It resulted in them getting a lot angrier, and a lot more frustrated, but it didn't slow them down or wear them out one iota. Indeed, the somewhat clumsy attempts to inflict harm only became more frantic with a total lack of disregard for the expensive equipment around them.  
But, fortunately, the door burst open to admit two figures before anything really costly could be demolished.

----

Scott held Paul back - one handed - and looked around. "Just what the hell is going on here?"  
"I'm showing Communism Boy here a little respect for how a big company can make things work!"  
"Communism? Up yours, dude!"  
Across the room, firmly restraining Forge, Kurt rolled his eyes. "Both of you, klappe. Now, what happened?"  
Paul spoke first. "It started with him bitching over spreadsheet programs-"  
"Here we go," Scott murmured. Paul ignored him.  
"-and then he starts badmouthing a decent company for no good reason!"  
"Every word I said was technically correct," interjected Forge. "And if the guy weren't such a brain-dead consumer he'd recognize that instead of trying to kill me for voicing a freaking opinion!"  
"You dissed the X-Box!"  
"X-Box sucks, dude. Gamecube's way cooler."

There was a brief pause before Scott aired the opinion that was passing between him and Kurt in unspoken agreement.  
"That is the single dumbest reason for a fight that I have ever heard."  
The slightly battered techno-geeks gaped at him.  
Kurt, on the other hand, nodded in agreement. "Ja! Computers in general are over-rated, anyway. What with the trouble I have typing, I barely use them and I have no troubles. They are annoying machines to begin with."  
Neither boy noticed the strange look coming back into Paul and Forge's faces.  
"And the whole Gamecube vs X-Box thing is just as pointless," continued Scott. "They're virtually the same thing. If anything, you're both wrong - PS2 is better."  
A corner of Paul's eye twitched.  
"Right. And it works as a DVD player, too! The others are just scheiβ…"

In the following silence, the air seemed to grow thick with menace. Kurt and Scott exchanged a slow glance before speaking.  
"Um… guys?"  
No response.  
"Paul? Forge? Are you two…?"  
At that moment, with cries that could later have been described as infuriated squeaks, the two thin, non-muscular, pre-beaten nerds attacked the two superheroes-in-training.  
Who panicked and went down hard.

----

Jean and Kitty peered cautiously into the Computer Lab; it was deserted.  
"Are you sure they're in here?" Kitty queried with a glance at Jean. So far as she could see, there was nothing here to indicate that the room had been used all day.  
Jean, for her part, simply nodded. There had been no mistaking the fight she'd 'overheard' and sent the boys off to deal with; and it had supposedly been successful, since the signals had stopped. The fact that Scott and Kurt hadn't returned was more disconcerting, particularly when a quick mental sweep revealed two startlingly weak mental signatures coming from inside the Computer Lab.  
And so it was with a certain amount of foreboding that Kitty and Jean had at last come searching.

After taking a few moments to check the rest of the room, they stood before a large wooden cabinet in the corner of the Lab. There was nowhere else; if the boys were indeed within the room, then they were inside the cabinet.  
Jean, as a psychic, knew that only her and Kitty were present. She knew that even though this was just like every horror movie she'd ever seen, there was probably nothing to be getting scared about. And she knew that there was nobody nearby plucking at violin strings to get that spine-tingling music they always played right before a scary scene. It was all in her overactive imagination and that was it.  
Even so, she had to bite the proverbial bullet and work up enough courage before she could actually open the door…

Only to burst out laughing as an extremely groggy Scott Summers toppled out to lie helplessly on the floor.  
A combination of insulated cables and duct tape bound him hand and foot; the tape had been further used to seal his mouth shut and attach his glasses to his face, covered over so that he couldn't see through them. There was some kind of grease matting his hair down, and most of the visible skin was either reddened or bruised from repeated impacts.  
In the cabinet behind him, Kurt was in a similar condition. The hologram hid any marks, but to make up for it he had an extra feature; a magnet taped to the side of his head, most likely courtesy of Forge to stop him teleporting.  
Kitty knelt, still chuckling, and began to free Scott; Jean telekinetically 'lifted' Kurt out and leaned him against a wall. When she ripped the tape off his mouth and removed the magnet, she earned a howl of protest; looking down at her hands, she saw the tape was covered with blue fur, torn out by the roots.  
_Oh, he is not going to like that._  
However, it also meant he could talk again.  
"What happened to you?" she demanded, trying to free his hands.  
"We insult'd c'mputers," the Elf mumbled, still dazed.  
"N' X-Box," supplied Scott helpfully from the floor. "N' Gamecube, too. Told 'em we liked Playstation bett'r…"  
The girls said no more, but rolled their eyes and continued their work on freeing the semiconscious boys. It wasn't until they had helped them to their feet and begun heading for the door that Kitty spoke.  
"Now, guys, we need to go over this. There are certain things that one should never, ever say whilst in the immediate vicinity of a technogeek…"


	15. Amanda vs Kurt's Secret Admirer

**Amanda vs Kurt's Secret Admirer (Post-breakup, Fighting over Kurt) – Requested by Noval Garant**

The girls stood out in the hall listening intently. There was no sound coming through the door in front of them, no light leaking around the frame, nor indeed any sign that there was someone inside.  
Rogue shot a glance at Jean. "We sure he's in there?"  
"You bet," said Jean. "At least it's either him or Strong Sad1 because nobody else in the known universe is this depressed."  
Kitty sucked at the lollipop in her mouth thoughtfully. "And what's he so depressed about?"  
"That, you'd have to ask Kurt…"

----

It had not, to say the least, been a good day for Kurt Wagner. Certainly it had begun well enough and ordinarily enough; wake up, raise the Mansion, get thrown around a bit by Logan in a 'surprise training session', shower, and go to school. It had been sometime during the latter venture, however, that the situation had begun to deteriorate somewhat.  
First period had shown a somewhat frosty reception from one Amanda Sefton, leaving the Elf rather upset and confused to all appearances. Second period, however, had been worse; Math was cancelled, leaving the students to their own devices. This had seen Kurt and Amanda start a conversation in the yard that had resulted in a (reportedly) very messy, angry, screaming breakup, if the rumour mill was at all accurate.  
Kurt's mood, as Evan put it, had matched his hide for the rest of the day. Finishing early, he'd passed on Scott's offer of a ride home, saying he had something to do. Nobody was quite certain what that had been - all guesses involved Amanda - but he'd returned to the Institute a while later, gone to his room without speaking a word to anyone, and not left.  
That had been before three in the afternoon. It was now nine thirty. And so the three girls had formed a posse to make sure, one way or the other, that Kurt was okay.

----

"Elf," called Rogue, banging on the door with one hand. "Open up, we gotta talk."  
No anwer.  
"Let us in, Fuzzy," Kitty tried. "We just want to make sure you're okay… oh, and we have food…"  
Still no answer.  
Jean, holding the aforementioned food tray, frowned. "I'm checking and… poking him mentally… and he's getting really good at ignoring me. And blocking."  
"Hmm." Kitty thought for a second, tapping her lollipop against her pursed lips. She tried the door, found it locked, and nodded. "Kurt, either you open the door or I'm coming in to open it for you!"  
That got a response. "Hor auf," came his muffled voice. Rogue winced.  
"Not even botherin' with English. He's pissed."  
Kitty clucked her tongue. "Well, I warned him…" so saying she slid though the door. A second later the lock clicked, the door opened inwards, and Rogue and Jean entered.

As she came in, Rogue dialled up a faint glow on the dimmer switch; this allowed them all to see the room around them. Jean headed for Kurt's bed, which sported a large blanket-rolled lump in the middle. Kitty, getting there first, flumped down next to the lump and shoved it, causing the lump to groan and roll to one side as its tail slid free. Setting her tray down, Jean seized the tail and tugged at it.  
"You. Get your head out of there and talk to us or else we steal your blankets. You know we can."  
"Don't," came a muffled voice from inside the blanket.  
"Give me a reason not to," suggested the telepath.  
"Um… I'm not wearing pants?"  
"One, that's a lie. Two, I said a good reason not to do it. Three, if you don't come out…" she telekinetically lifted an item off the tray and hovered it above the lump. "…you don't get any fried chicken."  
The lump's stomach gurgled violently; with a resigned sigh it unfolded into a respectfully dressed Kurt Wagner and a large pile of used tissues. Kitty pouted at him.  
"Aaaw… you've been crying…"  
"Nein, actually." Kurt grabbed at the hovering chicken wing and bit into it. "My eyes have been watering terribly and my nose will not stop running… but I have not been crying."  
Rogue raised an eyebrow. "So what, then? Ya sick?"  
"Nein." He bit, chewed, swallowed, paused. "I was kind of… hitbysomepepperspray."  
There was a stunned silence, during which Kurt finished the wing. As he cracked the bone to get to the marrow, Kitty found her voice.  
"Somebody hit you with pepper spray?"  
He nodded morosely, discarded the hollow bone on his tray, and grabbed more food. "Amanda. She… she and I broke up today. I went to talk to her after school and… things got weird. I think I scared her and so…"  
Jean blinked. "Nuh-uh. Not much excuses a hit of pepper spray and I can't see you doing any of them. Something had to set her off."  
"…I guess, but…"  
"Quit defending her," ordered Rogue. "We automatically gave you the benefit of the doubt and assumed she did something wrong, not you. Now take advantage and start bitching."  
That got a ghost of a smile out of him. "Okay."  
Jean patted him on the back. "Good. Now, don't leave parts out, and start with this morning."  
"Well?"

----

_Earlier that morning _

_Kurt groaned softly as he opened his locker; once again, a surprise was waiting for him. Not that he didn't like chocolates, or that the plush doll wasn't cute, or that the single red rose wasn't a nice touch. It was just that this was the fourth time this month someone had broken into his locker with apparent ease, and it was getting somewhat disconcerting.  
Not to mention the problem of what to do with these little gifts. He wasn't so heartless as to throw them away in public; not knowing who was leaving them left a risk that the giver would witness the act, and crushing souls in that fashion wasn't something he made a habit of. At the same time, though, it wasn't exactly in the best taste to hang on to gifts from a secret admirer when one's girlfriend was a witness to the action, and Amanda made no exception. She'd been showing every sign of extreme annoyance at Kurt's tolerance of his would-be wooer, which he supposed he could understand.  
But then, what was a guy to do? _

_Sighing, he grabbed his books from his locker, snaffled a chocolate, and turned.  
Amanda was waiting behind him.  
"So," she said, a hint of shrewishness in her voice. "More gifts." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you eating those chocolates?"  
He grinned weakly and spoke around his mouthful. "Um… I just really like Hazelnut?" Amanda didn't look amused, so he tried again. "Do you want one?"  
She glared a moment longer, then turned and walked off.  
"Amanda, liebling, wait, I… ach, Scheiβ…" juggling books and bag, he managed to get his locker door closed and run after her; by the time he got to class, however, she'd already taken a seat in the midst of a group of people, leaving no room for him. Sighing, he took a seat by the window and spent most of the lesson sneaking glances at her that weren't returned. _

_As soon as the bell rang, he was on her.  
"Amanda" Amanda, can we talk about this? Please?"  
Looking at him for the first time since his locker, she nodded. "Yeah. I think we'd better."  
Turning, she led the way out to the yard, Kurt following with a growing sense of deep foreboding. At last they reached a relatively secluded spot under a tree, where Amanda turned to him.  
"So?"  
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I just want to know why you're so upset."  
Amanda rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. You're encouraging whoever's leaving that stuff, making me look like an idiot, and you have to ask why I'm upset?"  
"Encouraging the… was? Amanda, I'm not…"  
"Yes you are! They see you hanging on to all the presents they leave and they think you want more! That's how it works!"  
"If they're watching me so closely, then I don't want to hurt their feelings by throwing the stuff away when they're there. And if they're watching me then they know I'm with you so they don't have a chance in the first place!"  
"Oh, no," corrected Amanda. "If they're watching you then they notice all the things that I put up with. The way you flirt with every female you come into contact with, like it's a reflex or something. The way you smile like an idiot at any female who returns the attention. The way most of your best friends are female who you seem to like a whole lot more than me… look, it's pretty hard for me to feel good about our relationship when there are rumours all around the school about you and some other girl."  
Kurt just blinked, stunned. "B-but… Amanda, you know that's impossible! You know about… well, me! I can't be sneaking around, it's not…"  
"-going to happen, I know. You keep saying that. Even though I'm living proof that it can happen." She sighed. "Kurt, I… I think we need a break. From each other."  
The Elf shook his head slowly. He had to have heard wrong, that was it. "W-what?  
She bit her lip. "Look, it's just… not working out between us, okay? I need… I need some time on my own. I'm sorry, I… I have to go."  
Utter astonishment kept Kurt frozen until Amanda was halfway back to the buildings. "Amanda! Wait!" he called frantically. She turned to walk backwards.  
"No, Kurt, I… just don't. I'm sorry."  
And all he could do was stare forlornly after her._

---

"Huh," was Rogue's comment after a moment. "Rumour mill had y'all doing a lot more shouting. Looks like it was off again."  
"Duh," snorted Kitty. "If you, like, believe half of what you hear? There's a girl in the second year who's actually a guy. Who eats rats.2"  
Jean shuddered. "Oh, God. Do not discuss him… her, I mean. Whenever people imagine the sick stuff she supposedly does, they project it. Ick."  
Kurt, plowing his way through a large plate of potato salad and pork chops, said nothing until Kitty regarded him again.  
"Okay, that's one part of it. Now keep going; what happened after school?"  
The Elf took a deep breath. "Um… now, this is where it gets really strange…"

----

_Earlier that afternoon _

_Kurt fidgeted as he peered around the tree. _I am not lurking_, he told himself firmly. _I just need to speak with Amanda and if she sees me before I can get close to her, she'll walk away. This is just to avoid making a scene and it is not weird_.  
He was in a small park not far from Amanda's house, one he knew she walked through twice a day going to and from School. Sometimes it was busy, with children or people walking their dogs; today it was completely empty, making things easier for him.  
Hearing footsteps coming, he ducked back and peered out; groaning under his breath he saw it wasn't Amanda. It was Bayville's resident airhead and, more recently, someone he'd been bumping into with surprising frequency. Taryn.  
Kurt pressed himself against the trunk of the tree, praying she wouldn't see him; fortunately she didn't. What she did see, however, was something Kurt saw at exactly the same time. Amanda, entering the park from the other direction, homeward bound. The Elf groaned silently at the shocking timing; Taryn, on the other hand, gave a smirk that Kurt didn't see and advanced toward Amanda.  
He had time to wonder what was going on before voices reached him. _

"_So," chirped Taryn. "Hear you broke up with Wagner today."  
Amanda eyed the taller girl with distaste. "What's it to you?"  
She smirked. "Well, means he's back on the market, doesn't it?"  
"Somehow I don't think he'd open up to you," was the withering response.  
"He opened up to you, didn't he?"  
"Let's just say that you wouldn't… accept him… as well as I can."  
Taryn grinned devilishly. "Oh, I don't know. I think I could accept him just fine… blue is my favourite colour, after all…"  
Click. "What?" Amanda demanded, stunned. Taryn just laughed.  
"Come on, girl! I saw him do his little act one time when you kept demanding him to 'take it off'. Just expected a show from the cute little guy, something risqué keep me warm. Never expected that, though I gotta admit you've got nice taste…" she leaned in. "So how's the fur feel? I bet it's just like a peach."  
Amanda was too stunned to answer properly. "But… but…"  
"That's exactly the part I'd like a good look at, yeah. And everything looks good for it…" she twirled her hair. "He's been hanging onto the little bits I gave him and now that you're out of the way…"  
Realisation sunk in and Amanda found her voice. "It was you? The whole secret admirer thing was you?"  
"Yep." Taryn's smirk got wider. "Just to let him know there are more fish in the sea… and now that you dumped him, he's ready to drop a net in the rebound…"  
One month of frustration at someone chasing her boyfriend rose up in Amanda. Her nostrils flared, her eyes widened. "You bitch," she hissed. _

_**CRACK **_

_Kurt blinked at the sight in front of him, unable to accept that Amanda had just slapped Taryn across the face. Taryn seemed to have trouble accepting it too; not that it stopped Amanda. The darker girl waded in, swinging her rucksack with both hands in a good solid whump that nearly knocked Taryn off her feet.  
The instant Taryn regained her balance, though, she moved in. With a screech she dove at Amanda, grabbed a handful of her hair and brought them both crashing to the ground. Amanda was caught off guard and landed underneath Taryn; on the other hand she'd instinctively managed to get a knee between them that dug into Taryn's stomach. The taller girl hissed and raked her nails down Amanda's face, drawing one thin line of blood and several white scratches before she was heaved off.  
Panting, they staggered to their feet, glaring furiously at one another.  
"God, when you lose it…" Taryn spat angrily. "What the fuck is your problem?"  
"Just learn to keep your hands to yourself, bitch!" snapped Amanda.  
"You want to try and teach me?"  
"Oh, yeah." _

_Taryn charged in at those words, hands stretched out; Amanda ducked and got a shoulder into the taller girl's stomach, who grunted and brought an elbow down on the darker girl's back. Both yowled in pain, then broke apart for an instant; this time it was Amanda who moved in first. One hand swung up and connected with Taryn's face, hard; the taller girl screamed as blood trickled from her nose. In return an elbow found Amanda's jaw and a lip swelled to twice its size.  
Amanda's grip slipped at that, and Taryn twisted savagely; breaking free she lunged in, long nails scratching at Amanda's face and drawing blood. Amanda howled as a cut was opened along her nose; when one flailing hand came within range she ducked her head and sank her teeth into it, sharp little canines piercing the skin. Taryn's shriek was deafening.  
And abruptly, a new voice broke in - two, in fact. Two young men had walked into the park, caught sight of the fight and were running up, even as Kurt was still too stunned to move and remained unseen behind his tree.  
"Hey! Hey, what're you two doing!"  
"Dude, they're gonna kill each other! Stop!"  
Taryn seized a handful of Amanda's hair and jerked on it; Amanda started bending the fingers back on Taryn's other hand, both wailing at the tops of their lungs. It was while this was going on that two hands grabbed each of them respectively and tore them free; Taryn with a small clump of ebony hair clutched in one fist, both struggling wildly.  
"What," grunted one guy, "is going on here?"  
Amanda managed to break free from him and glare at Taryn. ?"Fuck you, bitch," she snarled. Then, grabbing her bag, she headed off with as much dignity as she could muster. Taryn, also twisting free, spat after her and headed off in the other direction.  
The two would-be heroes looked at each other, shrugged, and went on their way. _

_Kurt had the decency to stay hidden until the park was empty before he himself moved on. _

----

Jean was stunned. "So Taryn knows about you?"  
Kurt nodded. "Ja. She apparently did not react as badly as I would have expected, but it's more than enough to complicate matters…"  
"I'll say," agreed Kitty. "So she saw you when Amanda asked you to take the watch off?"  
Kurt nodded, but Rogue cut off further questioning. "Wait a minute. Before we go into that, finish the story. What's the deal with the pepper spray?"  
'Ah…"

----

_Fifteen minutes after the fight_

_  
Carefully avoiding the den window, Kurt scaled the back wall of Amanda's house at speed. He was still more than a little bewildered by what he'd seen, but it hadn't changed his resolve to speak with his apparently now-ex girlfriend - especially now Amanda knew he hadn't been doing anything wrong. Reaching her bedroom window, he tried to peer through; the curtains were closed.  
He tapped on it. "Amanda!" he hissed furiously.  
No answer.  
He tried again. "Amanda!" tap tap tap "I know you?re in there!"  
tap tap tap  
"Amanda!"  
Abruptly the window swung open and Amanda's hand appeared. It was clutching a can of pepper spray. And from behind the window, as the spray began to hiss, came Amanda's voice shrieking what sounded like the words _fuck off_.  
Kurt let out a strangled little cry as the pepper spray hit him in the face; his enhanced senses made it far, far worse than on an ordinary person. Instinctively he let go and fell to the earth with a howl:  
"Scheeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiisssssssss - OOF!"  
Amanda's head appeared out the window and stared down at the gagging Elf.  
"Omigod, KURT? Oh God, I thought it was a burglar or something, are you-"  
Kurt vanished in an explosion of sulfur, her cries falling on ears that were no longer there. As if this was the final straw, Amanda screwed up her eyes and flung her head back.  
"FFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!" _

_A flock of birds flew out of a tree down the street, an old lady walking her dog looked around in utter horror, and somewhere a blue Elf gagged and wheezed and snorted as he tried to breathe without choking._

----

Kitty just stared blankly as Kurt's tale came to an end and he pushed the now-empty tray away from himself.  
"You," she finally said, "have had a really bad day."  
"Ja. I know."  
Jean blinked. "Okay, so your love life's a shambles, Taryn knows you're a mutant and has developed some kind of fixation on you, and your sinuses are blocked. Not a lot of good points there for tomorrow, either?"  
Rogue patted his shoulder. "So what're you gonna do, Elf?"  
Kurt laughed weakly. "What do you think I've spent the entire afternoon locked in here trying to figure out?"

-------------------------------------------------  
1 A character from the webcomic _Homestar Runner_  
2 Reference to _Misfits_, a tagfic betwixt InterNutter and Foxglove.


	16. Lance vs Pietro

**Lance vs Pietro (Fight for Brotherhood leadership, Todd influences outcome) – Requested by Amicitia**

Magneto turned as the door slid open to the enormous, metal-lined room, carefully disguising the surprise on his features. Not that he was surprised about the door itself opening; he'd been expecting the arrival of visitors. No, the surprise had been the way that the visitors in question had asked – demanded – an audience. He'd allowed this more out of curiosity than anything else.  
His curiosity only grew as the Brotherhood, with a plainly furious Avalanche at their head, advanced on him and stopped a short distance in front of him.  
"Is there a problem?" The master of magnetism enquired.  
"Damn right there is," Lance growled. He jerked his thumb sideways at Pietro. "Exactly why is he in charge of us now?"  
Pietro rolled his eyes but didn't change facial expression from his trademark smirk; evidently he wasn't going to say anything. Magneto frowned.  
"I was led to believe this had been explained to you."  
"Quickie's been going on about how he's in charge now. But since this isn't the first time he's come up with some dumbass story like this, I want to hear it from you."  
"What difference would that make?"  
Lance snorted. "It's not like he's prime leadership material. Everyone in the Hood, he's stabbed in the back at some point. All I want is a decent reason why you'd put him in charge."  
Magneto raised an eyebrow. "As has been explained to you, I feel that the Brotherhood may yet be of some use. Quicksilver has been selected as the most responsible of you to further your training, so you can realise your potential as elite soldiers for the cause."  
"Quickie's the most responsible?" Lance shook his head in disbelief. "The closest he comes to responsibility is knowing who he can lay the blame on when things fuck up!"  
Magneto's eyes roved over the rest of the Brotherhood. "You all agree with what Avalanche is saying?"  
Pietro held up his hands. "Hey, the guy wouldn't listen to me. I told him to accept the judgement you passed down, but he insisted…"  
Wanda nodded. "We tried to tell him."  
For his part, Fred looked torn. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Uh, well, y'know… we was wonderin' how come Pietro was made leader when, uh, Lance's sorta been a leader to us from the start… y'know? So we figured, you could maybe tell us?"  
His eyes settling on Todd, Magneto regarded the lanky teen for a long moment before clearing his throat. "And you, Toad? Are you at all displeased with the… decisions… I've made?"  
Todd's yellow eyes didn't waver. "Ain't my place to question decisions, boss-man. Even if I don't agree wit' 'em. I just try to fix somethin' if it seems wrong."  
"Indeed?"  
His upper lip curled for a brief moment; then, his eyes flickering toward Wanda, he nodded. "Yeah."  
Lance, meanwhile, shook his head angrily. "We just want to know why."

Nodding, Magneto settled his gaze on Pietro. "I chose Quicksilver for this task because I was under the impression that he would be accepted as leader, and that it would benefit the Brotherhood as a whole."  
Pietro's smirk grew in direct proportion to Lance's scowl; Magneto continued regardless.  
"Though it would appear that I may have been mistaken."  
Everyone blinked.  
"What?" Pietro managed after a moment.  
"Evidently you have not been accepted as leader in the way I had hoped," Magneto said simply. "And perhaps the situation needs to be rectified. Avalanche?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Do you feel you would make a better leader than Quicksilver?"  
For a long moment, Lance locked eyes with Magneto; then his eyes cut to Quicksilver. "I don't know," he said at last. "You never put anyone 'officially' in charge except Mystique, and she was never there. I don't know if I could do better than Pietro, but I got us this far." His eyes were level. "I wouldn't be any worse."  
"And the rest of you?" Magneto turned to them. "I suppose you feel you'd make equal or better leaders than Quicksilver? Or that you'd prefer Avalanche was placed in a position of command against my decision?"  
Pietro's grin was wavering. "You… you're kidding, right?"  
Magneto shot a dark look at him. "I placed you in a position of command and your troops are already in revolt. Is this supposed to impress me, Quicksilver? Because it sadly has not."  
As Pietro wilted, Fred looked troubled. "Uh…" he started. "I… I don't reckon I'd be a good leader. An' prob'ly nobody else'd be as good as Quickie or Mudslide. But… well… we was just wonderin' was all…"  
"We discussed it, father," Wanda cut in. "We agreed that if we spoke to you and told you what we thought, we'd accept whatever judgement you handed down after that."  
Todd remained silent throughout this exchange, his yellow eyes never leaving Magneto's face. Every aspect of his body language screamed his mistrust of the tall man before him – but he remained quiet, watching. Magneto only regarded him for a moment before turning his back on them in thought.

After a few seconds he spoke again, not turning to face the Brotherhood.  
"Very well. Since Avalanche and Quicksilver are the two 'prime candidates' for leadership – and since I have your word that you will accept my decision once it has been made – I will give this matter some thought. Quicksilver, Avalanche, you are to remain here. The rest of you may wait elsewhere; you will be called when the matter is settled."  
Wanda instantly headed for the door, Fred trailing uncertainly after her; Todd stayed where he was a moment longer. "An' how you gonna settle this 'matter', yo?"  
Everyone looked at Magneto. He frowned.  
"This matter shall be settled in a gentlemanly fashion, Toad. Since I have my doubts that you could understand such a sentiment, I'll thank you to obey my orders and follow your companions."  
Todd glared at Magneto a moment longer before turning silently and following Fred and Wanda toward the door. Lance and Pietro, on the other hand, looked at Magneto expectantly.

"Well," the master of magnetism began with a humourless smile. "Alone at last."  
Pietro had somehow gone paler than usual. "You… you aren't seriously considering changing your mind… are you?"  
Magneto's face was impassive. "I placed you in a position of command and leadership. And quite obviously, you have failed to repay that promotion by upholding the position I gave to you. It would appear that you were not as worthy a leader as I had believed."  
Lance smirked; even as he did so, Magneto turned on him.  
"And you, Avalanche. Had it occurred to you that I know full well of your supposed 'leadership' capabilities? I considered them before promoting Quicksilver. You were talking about betrayal, but to the best of my recollection he never attempted to join the X-Men at any point, unlike yourself. You truly think that I would make such a decision lightly? Yet you seem to doubt my ability to make decisions."  
Cowed, Lance lowered his head and said nothing.  
"I am disappointed in the both of you," Magneto went on. "Neither of you is capable of following orders, which leads me to wonder if you are at all capable of delivering them. However, since one of you must assume this position, I feel it most prudent that your punishment for failure should also resolve this problem."  
Lance and Pietro exchanged a confused look before the latter turned back to his father. "What do you…"  
"I said that you would settle this matter in a gentlemanly fashion. And so you will – a duel is in order."  
"A duel?" Lance asked incredulously. "You want us to fight?"  
Magneto nodded. "I do. And the victor will assume leadership of the Brotherhood. Fight as much as you feel to be necessary, but remember that – if you win, you lead."  
Both boys looked uncertain; Pietro cleared his throat. "Are you sure? I mean… well, Lance and I might argue once in a while, but you're talking about -"  
"I know full well what I am talking about, Quicksilver. And frankly I don't care if you feel uncomfortable fighting one another. A leader must occasionally perform a task he finds distasteful – much like I am doing now. It gives me no great pleasure to give you this ultimatum, but you've left me with little choice."  
"You're serious," Lance stated flatly. Magneto's humourless smile returned slightly.  
"I am, Avalanche. Or are you disobeying another order? I suppose I could always place one of the other Acolytes in the position of leadership… I doubt that they would have such qualms as the two of you…"  
The two boys exchanged another look, then turned back to Magneto. "We do this…" Pietro said falteringly, "…and that's it?"  
"The winner of your duel will be assigned leader of the Brotherhood. I doubt I can make it clearer than that."  
There was a long moment of silence before Lance and Pietro looked at each other and shrugged.  
"If you insist," said Lance.

----

Floating near the roof of the large room, Magneto looked down at the two boys as they faced off. After a moment they glanced up at him; he raised his hands coolly.  
"Begin."  
There was a second of mutual hesitation; and then they did.

Pietro, of course, moved first; in a blur of silvery-white he shot across the room, cannoning into Lance with enough force to send the larger boy tumbling across the room. Pressing has advantage, Pietro kept at him, his hands literally forming a whirlwind of lightning-fast punches into Lance's chest, sending the rock tumbler even further backwards.  
More through chance than skill, Lance managed to close one hand around Pietro's left wrist; swiftly, holding the speedster firmly, he yanked Pietro's wrist down at the same time as he swung his helmet-clad skull in for a vicious headbutt. The impact jolted Pietro back as Lance's other hand swung up, fist clenched tightly, to send a powerful blow into the pale youth's temple. Twisting free, Pietro stumbled away.  
Both boys were bleeding now, and prior reservations were giving way to anger, enough to make the fight real. Lance thundered forward, hands clenched into big bony hammers; Pietro sprang nimbly back and swiftly melted into a silver blur once more as he raced in a tight circle around Lance. For an instant the rising wind pressed into Lance; then dozens of rapid-fire impacts struck him from all angles as Pietro landed blow after blow. Staggering back, the older boy nearly fell over before his eyes narrowed and the floor began to shake. A cry came from the blurring whirlwind around him as Pietro lost his balance, tripped, and sprawled on the far side of the room from lost momentum.  
Before he could get up, Lance was moving toward him rapidly; tremors moved through the floor in time with Lance's steps, keeping Pietro off-balance and unable to get to his feet. In seconds, Lance reached him, yanked the speedster up, and brought one fist crashing into Pietro's chest, crumpling the pale boy to the ground again. Lance advanced once more; Pietro, however, recovered quicker than expected. Before Lance could trigger his powers again the speedster was back on his feet and moving. One swift punch knocked Lance to the floor before Pietro moved away, having realised the futility of trying to go blow-for-blow with the much stronger boy.  
Shaking his head, Lance regained his feet once more and shot one hand toward Pietro in an angry motion; in response the floor seemed to ripple like water, moving rapidly toward the speedster with almost enough power to shatter the skinny boy's ankles. In response Pietro moved – not across the unstable floor, but zipping toward the wall and literally running along the vertical surface, racing toward Lance almost faster than the eye could see. Even as the wave of seismic energy was striking the far wall, Pietro's arm came up to form a horizontal hook-shape; at blinding speed he swept past Lance, his arm striking the older boy under the chin with almost enough force to snap his neck. This didn't happen, but the impact was enough to send Lance flying backwards to land flat on the floor, looking up at the roof.

Sensing victory now, Pietro swooped in on the prone Lance, prepared to end the fight; too late he saw that Lance was less stunned than he appeared. The instant the speedster was in range Lance's hand came up to grab him, tripping Pietro as he backpedalled to get away. The elder boy rose to his hands and knees as Pietro sprawled nearby, then dove forward, tackling the pale youth bodily, sending them rolling across the floor. Not releasing his grip, Lance drew back one hand and smashed it furiously into Pietro's face, bloodying the speedster's nose; Pietro jolted at the impact before bringing one knee into Lance's stomach at high speed. Lance grunted as the air was knocked out of him, but didn't release his grip. Instead he headbutted Pietro again and threw his weight sideways, sending them rolling across the floor once more.

----

Watching the two boys grapple far below him, Magneto frowned. It was becoming clear that Lance had the upper hand in close combat, and Pietro didn't look like breaking free before he was beaten into submission. Which was, of course, not what Magneto had intended.  
While it was true that he'd meant for the fight to be fair, he'd also meant for Pietro to win easily. Instead it appeared that they had both underestimated Lance's skill in combat, and now his son was in danger of losing the position Magneto had so carefully cultivated for him.  
_Pietro, Pietro, Pietro… must I solve all of your problems for you?_  
It was unfortunate, was all. This would only serve to alienate Avalanche further from him; but then, the boy did need punishing for failing to accept a direct command. Pietro's punishment could come later. Right now, the situation had to be dealt with.  
His cape fluttered a tiny bit as a thin sliver of metal slid out from underneath it and hovered in the air next to him. Patiently, the master of magnetism watched the brawling teens below him, waiting for his moment – which came momentarily, the deadly sliver of metal shooting downwards. It wasn't enough to do any serious damage to Avalanche, just a flesh wound to the shoulder, but it would serve to give Quicksilver the upper hand in the battle and reinstate him as unquestioned leader of the Brotherhood –  
Completely unexpectedly, something large and heavy crashed into him. His concentration gone, he plummeted downwards, the heavy weight clinging to him for an instant before pushing him away with incredible force, sending him crashing into the wall and landing in an undignified heap on the floor. Across the room he heard the shard of metal clatter uselessly to the floor; then he staggered to his feet, half in shock that someone, anyone, would dare to attack him like this.  
Raising his head, he stared halfway across the room into the coldly furious eyes of the Toad.

----

On the other side of the room, Lance swore as the shard of metal rang off the floor a mere three inches from his arm. Evidently he wasn't intended to win this fight by any means – even when he had the upper hand, Magneto seemed to have no intention of letting Lance be the official leader of the Brotherhood. The best he could hope for now was to put up a decent fight before father and son overwhelmed him.  
His thoughts trailed off as he glanced up to see Todd landing in a graceful crouch as Magneto collapsed in a heap against one wall, courtesy of a powerful kick delivered mid-air. For a second he was confused, until he grasped the significance of Magneto's attack missing him – Todd had interrupted the master of magnetism's attack, preventing the fight from being fixed as Magneto had obviously intended…  
Abruptly a sharp blow to the head brought his thoughts back to the here and now. Underneath him Pietro had managed to get one arm free; now he punched Lance square in the face, stunning the older boy and giving Pietro all the distraction he needed to break free completely. The speedster's eyes were bright with anger, ready to attack relentlessly if needs be, and he regained his feet in a blur. Lance was slower, and the instant he was standing again Pietro moved forward, kicking the rock tumbler's feet out from under him and delivering another three punches before Lance had even hit the floor.

----

"Toad!" Magneto bellowed. "Are you out of your mind?"  
"Bach atcha," Todd called belligerently. "Thought this was gonna be a gen'leman's fight, yo. Not some one-sided schtick you were gonna set up so's Pie-Pie can't lose."  
Rage nearly overwhelmed him. "My decisions are my own to make-"  
"Not when you gonnna stab my buddies in the back, yo. I ain't got nuthin' against Quickie, but if this is gonna settle the issue then just let it go! Let 'em duke it out!"  
Magneto shook his head. "You have no idea what you're talking about. I understand my actions and their consequences, unlike you-"  
Todd grinned nastily, displaying teeth as yellow as his eyes. "I know exactly what I'm doin' boss-man. Obeyin' an order to let those two fight it out an' decide the leader of the 'Hood that way."  
Rising a full foot off the floor, Magneto shook his head, unable to believe Todd's arrogance. "I ordered you to leave the room! What I do is of no concern to you unless I wish it, and I will not let my own flesh and blood to come to harm while I…"  
"Like you did Wanda?" Todd called. Shocked anger silenced the master of magnetism long enough for Todd to continue: "You were helping yo' own flesh an' blood when you mindfucked her, huh? 'Cause it looked to me like you were bein' a manipulative prick than a good dad-"  
That was as far as he got. With an inarticulate cry of rage, Magneto's hand shot out, and in response a trio of blades whipped out from where they were secured on his person and hurtled toward Todd.

Instantly Todd bounded into the air, tongue shooting out and wrapping around the first blade, sending it off-course to smash into a wall. As the second and third blades buzzed past him, one long arm grabbed the wall and pulled the lanky youth in close before he kicked off it, sailing right across the room to ricochet off the adjacent wall in a spectacular somersault. Magneto's weapons turned in midair to follow him, the master of magnetism turning to see where Todd was now – just as the Toad crashed bodily into him like a cannonball and sent them both tumbling across the floor.  
Moving rapidly, Todd pinned Magneto's arms with his powerful legs and swung his fists. Two punches landed on Magneto's jaw in quick succession; then with a snarl the older mutant moved. His legs came up from behind, striking Todd in the back of the head as his weapons returned, cutting laterally through the air toward the youth.  
Releasing Magneto, Todd leaped backwards into a spectacular backwards somersault, neatly avoiding all three blades; instantly, however, Magneto levitated back to a standing position and flew forward rapidly. Even as Todd landed he crashed into the boy, one iron-clad hand gripping Todd's throat as he lifted the two of them high above the floor.  
Struggling wildly, Todd brought one powerful leg crashing up into Magneto's knee, a blow that almost broke the bone. Though he cried out at the impact, Magneto didn't release his grip, instead joining it with his other hand and strangling Todd with all his strength. His face twisting, Todd's mouth worked, and suddenly a gob of green slime spat out and splattered against Magneto's breastplate. A moment later it began to sizzle; apparently the goo was highly acidic.  
Letting out a roar of frustration, Magneto hurled the choking boy against the nearby wall, where Todd fell down to the floor; ignoring him for the moment, Magneto unclasped his armour before the acid ate through it. Freed from it confines and now relying on the rest of his armour to keep him levitating, he looked down just in time to see the Toad leaping upwards once more, tongue lashing out to wrap around his ankle and drag him downwards through the air.

----

Lance rolled to one side as Pietro kicked him, feeling the impact bruise his ribs. Desperately he lashed out with one foot, hoping to knock Pietro's feet out from under him; the speedster jumped the blow with contemptuous ease, sneering down at him. A wicked grin breaking across his face, Pietro stepped back and resumed his whirlwind-fast circling of Lance.  
For a moment Lance looked up at him, confused, before getting to his feet. Glancing over at the where Todd and Magneto were fighting across the room, he felt a sickening feeling in his chest; there was no way Todd could hope to beat Magneto in a fight. All he could do was buy Lance time, and there was no point in that if he couldn't even beat Pietro –  
Abruptly he lost his balance. It wasn't from a physical blow; the wind raised by Pietro's rapid circling was making him unsteady on his feet, which was strange because now Pietro was going even faster, much faster than he had before.  
With a cry Pietro increased his speed further, feeling the wind burning his face and bringing tears to his eyes. Muscles straining, he kept up the pace – and then a cry from Lance made it all worthwhile as the tightly-packed air in middle of his miniature cyclone formed a real vortex, and Lance was jerked off his feet and high into the air by a miniature but growing tornado.  
Rocketing upwards, Lance's mind raced – all Pietro had to do now was stop and he'd plummet back to the floor. If the impact didn't knock him out cold, Pietro would do it a moment later, and that'd end the fight. _To say nothing of what Pietro and Magneto together would do to Todd_, he thought darkly. That sealed it. Gritting his teeth, Lance concentrated. If he distracted Pietro he'd still fall, but maybe he could get some advantage out of it.  
As the floor of the entire room shook, Pietro stumbled and tripped once more; his balance lost, he staggered out of control, colliding headfirst with the wall before him and falling back onto the floor, dazed. Above him Lance felt the wind die down in an instant before gravity caught up to him, halting his ascension before he dropped like a stone, bracing himself for the impact with the floor –

----

Yanked down by the simultaneously rising Todd, Magneto grunted as they collided in the air and fell downwards, Todd's long limbs wrapping around him. Twisting in the air, Todd managed to get atop Magneto before they hit the floor, using the older man to cushion his impact; though his remaining armour prevented serious damage, without his breastplate Magneto felt the air crushed out of him by the impact.  
Straddling Magneto, Todd sneered down at him for an instant before drawing back one fist and smacking the older man in the face. While the master of magnetism was recovering from the punch, Todd bounded to his feet, yanked Magneto up, and kicked him in the back – a blow that sent Magneto literally flying into the wall to collapse in an untidy sprawl, panting.  
Knocking the older man away, however, was a mistake – an instant later one of Magneto's three blades spun by, carving a shallow wound in Todd's arm. Ducking the next, Todd howled as the final blade embedded itself in his leg. Distracted by the pain, he looked away from Magneto; when he looked back, Magneto was moving.  
Charging forward, his speed augmented by magnetic force pulling his armour. Magneto led the charge with one fist extended, plowing right into the defenceless Todd and knocking the lanky boy down with a savage blow to the head. Even as Todd was falling Magneto dropped to his own knees, pinning the boy's chest down. With a flicker of his fingers, all three of his blades whirled in and poised themselves at Todd's throat, ready to kill the boy in an instant.  
Satisfied that the Toad was at least momentarily subdued, Magneto looked up to see Avalanche holding another blade – the one he'd originally thrown at Avalanche – to his son's throat.

"Let him go," Lance called. He was panting, his head was ringing, and he was bleeding from several places. He also suspected he had at least one broken rib. The landing had hurt him, but the impact with the wall had hurt Pietro more; the pale boy was still dazed and wasn't even struggling against Lance's grip.  
"Let him go," he repeated. "Let him go or I'll kill Pietro."  
Magneto regarded him cooly, despite his now-bedraggled appearance. "I think you're bluffing, Avalanche. I don't think you'd really kill your friend, would you?"  
"That's what you think? Well, I think you'll kill Todd if I let you. And then you'll kill me. So I don't have a lot to lose, which means I'm sure as fuck not bluffing."  
Magneto paused, then looked down at the defenceless Todd, who glared up at him, not speaking. He could, of course, pull the blade from Avalanche's hand; but he was a little worn out himself after subduing the Toad. Focusing his attention on Avalanche would mean removing his attention from the Toad, which would probably allow the young man to break free again, which would make the situation drastically worse.  
"And supposing I do let him up?" Magneto asked, buying time. "What then?"  
"I let Pietro go and we forget the whole thing."  
"Hmm. Avalanche, I must say… after all this, I'm not sure I trust any of the Brotherhood, least of all yourself or the Toad. Why would I risk it?"  
Lance regarded him evenly for a long moment, then nodded. "A compromise."  
"What?" Magneto raised an eyebrow.  
"You let Todd go, I let Pietro go. Then it's all over. No more leadership trouble."  
Magneto laughed. "You expect me to believe you'd just let it go?"  
"You were talking about leadership," Lance shot back. "Well, here's a sacrifice. I won this fight fair and square, and we both know it. Even with you trying to help Pietro I won. By all rights I'm the new leader. But I'll make you a deal – you let us go and we forget this whole thing ever happened. Pietro's back in charge of the Brotherhood and it's like we never even came here today."  
"Interesting…" Magneto considered. "And how can I trust you?"  
Lance laughed bitterly. "Easy," he said. "You'd kill me if I lied."  
For another long moment, Magneto did not move. Then, at last, he nodded. The blades at Todd's throat clattered to the floor and he rose fluidly, leaving the boy to get up on his own.  
"Deal."  
Sighing, Lance dropped his own blade and helped Pietro to his feet.

----

Fred and Wanda looked up as the door slid open to admit three sorry figures; Pietro, Todd and Lance, in varying degrees of physical suffering, came into the room and stood there, the latter two supporting Pietro between them.  
"What the fuck happened?" Wanda demanded. "First Lance is firing off earthquakes Toadboy storms off in a huff, then there's all that noise… what happened to you three?"  
Todd and Lance exchanged a look; silent agreement passed between them.  
"Issue's solved, yo," Todd said quietly. "Pie-Pie's back in charge."  
"But…" Fred looked confused. "What happened in there? What's goin' on?"  
"Don't worry about it, big guy," Lance cut him off. "Mags got angry is all. It's over now. We're going home."  
"But…"  
"No."  
The sorry trio made their way toward the exit; Fred and Wanda exchanged a confused look and followed them. As they neared the door, Pietro rolled his head back and pawed at Lance's shoulders.  
"Lance…" he croaked.  
The rock tumbler looked down at him. "Yeah?"  
"I'm sorry… I couldn't have stopped him… I was just trying to end it so I could call him off…"  
For an instant, Lance's face softened. Then he shook his head. "No need for an apology, Quickie. Let's just go home."  
The door slid open in front of them, and they left in silence.

In another part of the facility, Magneto looked at a large screen, watching the Brotherhood's sorry exodus from his headquarters. His head was still ringing from his tangle with the Toad; likewise his dignity was still smarting from Avalanche's defeat of his son and subsequent control of the situation. Clearly he had underestimated the Brotherhood…  
Then, strangely, he smiled and turned away from the screen.  
"The potential of the Brotherhod," he said softly. "A force of elite soldiers, indeed…"  
Walking away from the bright screen, he began to chuckle softly to himself.


End file.
